The Other Malfoy
by SamSki
Summary: Voldemort, taking a page out of Dumbledore's big book of manipulation, has hatched a plan in ensuring his ultimate victory of the wizarding world. And it all begins with the robbing of a cradle and the creation of a second Malfoy heir, Harrison Malfoy. Dark!Harry,Wrong!BWL,Twin!fic Sane!Bellatrix Draco/Harry!Brotherfic Haphne, DMOC, OCGW, RHr
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: The Beginning and Childhood**

Our story begins on a cool October night, the wind howling at the full moon, the pine trees swaying, and the water in the river rippling forward at a more chaotic speed. In the distance, there was a pair of impressive wrought iron gates, that opened to reveal a smooth pathway, surrounded by bright green grounds, filled with neatly trimmed bushes, exotic plants, and exotic wildlife, including several peacocks that were tethered to a certain area of the grounds.

Further up the pathway, a giant, castle-like manor was revealed, standing proudly in all of its expensive beauty. The cloaked figure continued on his march, waving his arm for the front doors to be opened.

Soon after, a regal, aristocratic-looking man came forward, bowing low to the ground.

"M'lord, how may I be of service to you?"

"Rise, Lucius," came the voice of the cloaked and hooded man, looking at the blonde with piercing red eyes. "There is a matter that I must discuss with you and Narcissa... I felt that I could trust you." Lucius' grey eyes widened ever so slightly, as to be openly trusted by the Dark Lord was a great honor.

"Of course, M'lord." He led Voldemort to the parlor, where Narcissa was rocking baby Draco. Narcissa let out a soft gasp when she observed the Dark Lord, bowing deeply with her month old child still grasped firmly in her arms.

"M'lord."

"Rise, Narcissa," said Voldemort cooly. "Now, let us get down to business." The three sat down at the large table, and Voldemort began to speak.

"The three candidates for the prophecy have been born," he began. "Neville Longbottom and the Potter twins, James the Second and Harald. Dumbledore, the manipulative senile old coot, believes it to be James... he is wrong."

The others looked at him quizzically.

"I managed to infiltrate the Potter home, with the help of Wormtail, of course, while the elder Potters were sleeping... and I cross-examined the children. Jamie's power if only slightly above that of a squib, while young Harald practically reeks of power... I have taken a page out of Dumbledore's manipulative book, and have hatched a plan to ensure my rise to power..."

"I will sneak in when the Potters are absent, and stage a defeat of myself by the hands of the younger Potter twin, Jamie. I will then take Harald, and bring him here, to you, where I trust you will perform a blood adoption ritual... he and Draco will be Irish twins. I expect you to love and raise him as your own, a second heir to the Malfoy fortune. In return for your services, I will bestow gifts on the children, in addition to Harald's already developed metamorphmagus powers. The terms are acceptable?"

Narcissa and Lucius turned to one another and nodded.

"Yes, M'lord."

"Good," said Voldemort, smiling cruelly. "Expect a package to be dropped off soon... I will lay low for a while, ensure my horcruxes are in safe locations, and delve deeper into the studies of the Dark Arts... I will see the three of you soon."

And with that, Voldemort apparated away.

True to his word, Voldemort returned a mere three weeks later, an eerily calm child in his arms.

"I have already altered his memories," Voldemort informed the two Malfoys. "Now, the ritual." Lucius gathered up the runic stone basin, and cut the palms of himself, his wife, and baby Harald, and then began to chant in latin.

After a few short moments, Harald began to glow, and his features became that of a Malfoy, with a bit of the Black side of the family mixed in. He had soft platinum blonde hair, and bright silvery grey eyes, but his facial features were that of Narcissa's, until he scrunched up his nose and his hair turned bright green.

He cooed up at Narcissa and giggled, thrusting his hands up at her in the worldwide signal that meant he wished to be picked up, and Narcissa loved him instinctively, her maternal instincts already accepting him as her own.

He was placed in the large, extravagant cot with Draco, and Voldemort began the process of gifting the two children. After an hour of anxious waiting, he exited the room to observe Narcissa and Lucius peering at him questioningly.

"I have gifted young Draco with beast-speak, which is, of course, very rare. Harald will only be a parselmouth, which I believe evens out the talents of the two... Draco will be able to communicate with all, while Harry will only be able to speak with snakes. I have also created a blood bond between the two, allowing them to communicate telepathically if they do so choose, it is a more powerful version of the twin bond." Lucius and Narcissa bowed deeply once more and uttered their thanks.

"Now, I must be going... make sure to raise the children right. It would not do to have muggle scum corrupting them."

"Yes, M'lord."

And Voldemort once again apparated away.

Time went by quickly for the Malfoy family, being congratulated by many on the arrival of their second son, Harrison - they'd changed his name in order to not bring forth suspicion from the Potters, who had just lost their son, Harald - as it was fortunate for a family to have two heirs to continue on the family line, and the Malfoys had plenty of money for their children to inherit, so the number of heirs didn't really matter, anyways.

When the boys were five years old, Lucius gifted them each with their own personal house elf - Jinky for Draco and Dobby for Harry - and began teaching the boys in the pureblood way.

(linebreak)

In the West Wing of Malfoy manor, on the third floor in the Solar, two young boys sat, playing a game of wizard's chess, which was highly unusual, seeing as the boys were only five years old.

"Check," said the elder of the two - really, it was hard to tell the difference, as the two looked shockingly like twins, even though they were a month apart - smiling smugly. The other boy, whose eyes were a slight paler shade of silver than the other's, scrunched up his face in concentration, and smiled as he moved his rook.

"Checkmate." The elder scowled, sticking his tongue out at the younger.

"Cheat."

"Draco, you know I don't cheat. It would be unbecoming of a Malfoy." Here, the young boy, Harrison, mimicked the voice of his father, elongating his hair and causing his facial features to sharpen, and Draco had to stifle a giggle.

"How long have we been playing chess?"

"Since we were old enough to understand what Father was telling us… as he says, it is unbecoming for a Malfoy to indulge in childish games, and we would benefit to further our strategizing skills, and other noteworthy attributes of a pureblood, as we are superior." Here, he quoted his father directly, as he and Draco both sucked up the knowledge that their father provided them like sponges, eager to learn more.

Some would say that they were being denied a proper childhood, but the two of them didn't seem to care. They had each other, and that was enough, as they were closer than most brothers, and hardly ever quarreled, and when they did, it was resolved quickly.

"What are we doing today?" asked Draco, as Harry was the one who kept up to date with the schedule, as Draco was to be the next Lord Malfoy, but Harry would be his most trusted advisor and confident.

"We have etiquette lessons with the other children at the Parkinson ancestral home at noon," here, Harry scrunched up his nose. "The majority of the others our age are the most uncomposed people I have ever met, and the Parkinson heiress is a nightmare… almost as bad as the goons Crabbe and Goyle. The only decent company there is Nott, Zabini, and Greengrass."

"What else?" asked Draco in a rather bored tone.

"Father says he has news for us later on in the evening… I wonder what _that _could be, but he mentioned that it would be satisfactory, and I do believe he's going to prep you with more of the Malfoy family history, as we are one of the twenty-eight Ancient and Most Noble Houses."

At this, Draco nodded more enthusiastically. Though he was only five years old, he was already quite the history buff, especially when it came to pureblood lineage and history, and already had a vendetta against mudbloods and blood-traitors, as was drilled into his and Harry's heads since birth.

"That sounds lovely," he said, smiling. "I can't wait for tonight, then."

(later)

The two boys stood still, respectfully silent as they waited for their father to address them from his regal looking seat in his study. He cracked a smile and motioned for them to sit in the two comfortable chairs he'd conjured for them.

"I have the most excellent news," he said gleefully. "Your mother's grandfather, Arcturus Black, has disowned the blood-traitor, Sirius, from the Black family, and, as Regulus is dead, that passes on the title to you, Harrison." Harrison perked up, and he and Draco exchanged gleeful glances, knowing what this meant.

"Which means," Lucius continued. "That Harrison, you have now been named the sole heir to the position of Lord Black of the most Ancient and Noble House of Black, which means our family now holds the family magic of _two _of the sacred twenty-eight." He paused.

"I will continue tutoring you on the noble history of the Malfoys, while your mother will focus on the Black family history, as I believe it will be beneficial for both of you to learn the history of both houses." He smiled and conjured up parchment, quills, and ink, and two desks, so the boys could take notes.

"Now, continuing on with the Malfoy family history. In the year 1836, when there was a strange uprising of the muggles-" and the note-taking began, both Draco and Harry writing quickly in an elegant script, noting about the atrocities of the muggle filth and how they were to be euthanized like rabid dogs.

Later on, they joined Narcissa in the Bower, as she informed them of the Black family history, making sure to note the downfall of blood-traitors, and Harry and Draco added their notes to the pristine logbook they'd begun, documenting the family history in their own handwritten notes.

(time passing)

Two blonde haired, grey eyed boys were standing elegantly off to the side of a party, less alcoholic mead wines in champagne flutes grasped in their hands, both wearing elegant green and black acromantula silk robes, Draco wearing the Malfoy heir ring, and Harry the Black heir ring.

They were ten years old, soon to be eleven, and soon to be Hogwarts students, and were enjoying their last couple of months of freedom. Their lessons had progressed greatly over the years, and the two had already acquired illegal custom made wands from Knockturn Alley to practice the beginnings of Dark Magic.

"Look, Harrison," said Draco snidely, pointing at the entrance to the Ministry Ball. "The filth has arrived."

The Potter family had entered - along with Sirius no-name, who had been accepted as a ward of the Potter home - and were looking around for people to socialize with. James Senior and Junior were wearing classic robes, which clashed greatly with their rat's nests for hair, and Lily and Rose Potter were wearing elegant dresses.

"Draco," chided Harry softly. "You forget your manners. They may be filth, but we may only refer to them as such when they are not in our immediate vicinity." Draco sniffed.

"The stench of mudblood is contaminating my air," he said haughtily, and Harry suppressed a chuckle.

"Look, they're approaching Minister Fudge, I believe we should greet him," said Harry, and Draco soon caught on, smiling slyly at Harry.

"Very Slytherin of you, brother."

"But of course!" _You should expect nothing less, _Harry projected into Draco's mind.

_I would never expect anything less of you, brother. _

The two of them gracefully made their way over to the Minister, depositing their champagne flutes on the tray of a house elf that had gone walking past. The Minister noticed them while in conversation with the Potters.

"Ah! Draco, Harrison! Come, come! I'm sure you know of the Potters." He welcomed the two as if he would welcome nephews, and Jamie Potter noticed this with distinct jealously.

"Of course," replied Harry smoothly, smiling charmingly up at the Minister. "The Potters are well known among the purebloods, though I have never had the _pleasure _of meeting their acquaintance yet." He turned to them, smiling.

"Days tidings to you, Lord Potter, Lady Potter, Heir Potter, Heiress Potter," he said, swallowing his pride and offering a small bow of his head in order to appease the Minister. "I am Harrison Malfoy, Heir to the House of Black, and this is my brother, Draco, the Heir to the House of Malfoy." Sirius and James stiffened at Harry's title, and he offered a coy, smirking smile.

"Why you little Death Eater!-" began Jamie, and Lily fixed him with a hard look.

"Not now, son," she said through gritted teeth, and the Minister frowned disapprovingly at the supposed savior of the wizarding world.

_At least the mudblood knows that stirring up trouble wouldn't benefit her and her filthy blood-traitor family, _Draco's voice sneered in Harry's mind, and Harry once again suppressed a chuckle.

"I meant no offense," he said, putting up his best acting skills in order to sound slightly hurt and wounded. "It is merely customary to offer one's heritage in greeting."

"Yes, it is," agreed Fudge wholeheartedly, fixing Jamie with a stern look. He turned to the Malfoys, virtually ignoring the Potters.

"How have your studies been coming along, boys?" he asked merrily, and Draco and Harry exchanged a mischievous glance.

"Wonderfully, thank you for asking, Uncle," said Harry, addressing the Minister with the name he'd allowed Harry and Draco to use for years. "We've finally caught up to date on the proud histories of both the Malfoy and Black family, as well as countless others from the sacred twenty-eight, and have also observed the might of the Ministry."

"It is amazing how prestigious and well-thought our governing body has been, through thick and thin," offered Draco, who was well versed in the art of sucking up to important political figures for personal gain. "And we delved deeper into your years as Minister, Uncle, and it is amazing how well you have run, especially with the whole Bagnold fiasco." Fudge smiled, obviously pleased.

"Why, thank you boys, it is so wonderful to see the youth of today showing an interest in politics. Why, I am sure that when the time comes, you two will be excellent presiders over your seats in the Wizengamot." He smiled at them apologetically. "I would love to catch up, but I will be coming over for dinner Friday evening, and I must make a few visits with the Ministers from visiting countries. Farewell, you two." He hurried along afterwards, and the two boys had a quick visit with Madame Umbridge - who they secretly hated, but put up with, as she was Fudge's senior undersecretary, and claimed they were the only two children she'd ever liked - and then danced a few customary dances with other pureblooded partners.

"Have you considered possible matches for the future, brother?" asked Harry once they were done mingling and were eating a meal, they parents away socializing.

"There is always more power to be gained," said Draco. "And I personally have my eye on Anastasia Rosier, even though she is a year younger than us. You?"

"Daphne Greengrass is a possible candidate," said Harry, nodding to himself. "Staying within the sacred twenty-eight _is _most important."

"Though one of the lesser purebloods with the right mindsets wouldn't be horrible, either," said Draco. "So long as we don't marry mudbloods or blood-traitors. Imagine the scandal _that _would cause." Harry scrunched up his nose.

"I am disgusted by the mere _thought_," said Harry with a shiver. "The absolute _horror_ and _dishonor _that would bring upon our great lineage!"

"Boys!" called Lucius, walking over. "It is time we get going, we've already picked up your school supplies, so all we need is your familiars. We can go to Knockturn Alley quickly, and then return home to retire for the night." The boys exchanged eager glances, and held onto their parents' arms to side-along apparate.

First they went to Ollivanders first, Draco receiving a hawthorn wand with the core of unicorn hair, and Harry received an aspen wand with the heartstring of a Hungarian Horntail. Neither wands were as good of a fit as the other illegally owned wands, but they would do for school work.

Finally, they made their way down Knockturn Alley, to the far East corners, where familiars and house elves were sold in _Barcture and Boris_, which was another branch of _Borgin and Burkes_.

"Master Malfoy, Mistress Malfoy, young Masters Malfoy," said the shopkeep respectfully, bowing. "What'll it be today?"

"Familiars," said Lucius cooly. "Only the best for my sons. There will be no need for an owl, as our eagle owl, Zeus, already serves us well." The man, Mr. Barcture, nodded and opened the back door, leading them to a room filled with cages that held animals.

"Both of you repeat the incantation '_invenire socium fati' _and follow the string of magic that comes from your wand, only you will be able to see it."

"_Invenire socium fati_." Repeated the two boys, and silver strands of magic flowed out of the both of their wands. Draco's led to a small magical breed called a _chama_, which was like a lynx bred with a kneazle, and they could detect danger. Harry's led to a magical breed of snake called a _jaculus, _that had wings hidden beneath its scales that it used when in immediate danger, as well as poison sacs in their fangs that were beneficial to many potions.

"That will be all today, Mr. Barcture, thank you," said Lucius, depositing a bag of gold on the counter.

"Any time, Master Malfoy," said Mr. Barcture, snatching up the gold greedily. "Its been a pleasure doing business with you."

The Malfoys then apparated home to their manor, and Draco and Harrison claimed they needed to bathe repetitively.

"Honestly, Father, the place is a hovel," said Draco with an upturned nose, a sour expression on his face. "The people there are filthy."

"I know, son," consoled Lucius, also looking mildly disgusted. "But it is a necessary evil, seeing as it is the only way we can acquire the darker heirlooms we own, and it is very easy to cheat others out of a fortune, should they not know what they have in their possession."

"Off to bed now, you two," said Narcissa, smiling kindly at her two boys and scooting them in the direction of the Solar. Harry and Draco exchanged smiles, and raced each other to their wing of the manor, in a rare show of childishness. After bathing in their own private bathrooms, they retired to their conjoining rooms, outfitted with everything a prince would have, as the purebloods _were _similar to royalty.

"Dobby!" called Harry, and the house elf appeared, dressed in the Malfoy elf uniform, which was always kept clean. He was eager, as Harry was a kind, fair Master, and he had narrowly dodged the harshness of Lucius. Draco had taken a page out of Harry's book and was somewhat kind to Jinky, as it was proven that being kind to your elves produced better results.

"Master Harry be wanting Dobby?" asked Dobby.

"Yes," said Harry. "Could you fetch me my acromantula silk nightclothes, please? And a glass of warm milk?"

"Of course, Master Harry, sir," said Dobby, and the elf left and soon returned with the necessary items.

"Thank you, Dobby, you may retire for the night." The elf nodded and popped away, and Harry made himself comfortable in his king-sized bed, his new companion, Regulus, after one of the better Blacks, curled up next to him, and slept, dreaming of Hogwarts and one-upping Potter at every opportunity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Malfoys Take Hogwarts**

The handsome looking family of four made their way through Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the specialized multiple-compartment trunks being levitated by two house elves. They reached the scarlet train an hour early, as to make sure they missed the frantic rush of the lazy filth, and Narcissa gave both of her sons another once-over.

"You'll write us every week," she said sternly, looking at her children fondly. She'd never been separated from them for more than several days at a time, so this would be a rather large change. "And be good?"

"Of course, Mother," said Harry happily. "Malfoys must always be composed and show nothing but the most elite decorum." He recited, Lucius smiled and clapped his sons on the back after Narcissa was done hugging them to death.

"Do the Malfoy family proud," he said, and then nodded as Dobby and Jinky helped them load their trunks into one of the larger compartments of the train.

Once they were situated, the two boys unloaded the ornately carved Malfoy chess set, made of platinum and gold of the highest quality, and began playing an intense game, as the both of them had only improved since their younger years.

They were soon joined by the other boys who were most likely going to be in Slytherin that year, the same children that they'd received tutoring with when they were younger, and the girls chose another compartment.

After a while, the train began to pull out of the station, and Harry and Draco declared a stalemate, promising to continue the game later, and they turned to the gathered boys: Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

"How were your holidays?" asked Harry politely, as was the pureblood way.

"Mother and I spent the summer in Italy," began Blaise. "Another husband acquired, more gold transferred, and my mother is yet again a widow."

"What number is this one?" asked Theodore.

"I believe he was the ninth," said Blaise thoughtfully. "Though I can never be sure, Mother _does _enjoy it, she calls it her own personal sport, fishing for husbands, I believe."

"I spend the summer in France," said Theodore. "With my grandfather Tiberius, learning more of the family customs." He turned to Harry and Draco. "You two would know all about that." Crabbe and Goyle just let out their customary grunts, as the two didn't like to speak unless they absolutely had to, they were more the brute strength of the group.

Another pureblood tradition was the showing off of wealth, so the boys took turns revealing gifts they'd received over the summer, and they were greatly impressed by the familiars - Caelum and Regulus - that Draco and Harry had received as a going-to-Hogwarts gift from their father.

The door opened loudly, interrupting the game of exploding snap and the eating of sweets and general merriment, and the six boys observed a bushy haired girl with buck teeth, looking at them haughtily.

_She doesn't have the features of any pureblood I know, _projected Draco.

_She's a mudblood, the stench is getting to me, _responded Harry.

"Have you seen a toad?" she asked in a superior tone of voice. "A boy named Neville's lost one."

"No," responded Harry snidely.

"I'm Hermione Granger," the girl continued, not noticing the open hostility of the boys in the compartment.

"Granger," said Nott dangerously. "That's not the name of any wizarding family I know."

"That's because I'm the first witch in my family," said Granger proudly. "My parents are muggles." The tension in the air thickened, and Draco sneered at her.

"Leave us, mudblood. We do not need your kind contaminating our air." The girl looked highly offended, even though she might not know the meaning of the word, she could hear the hostility. She seemed to have a death wish, though, as she turned to Harry.

"Snakes weren't allowed on the pets list," she continued in her know-it-all tone.

"If you'd been raised with _real _wizards," responded Harry snidely, as he had no love for mudbloods. "You would know that there's an exception for magical familiars. Now, you're stench is upsetting my stomach, so _leave us_." He said the last part in a darkened voice, and the stupid girl finally picked up on the warning signs and high-tailed it out of their compartments.

"Mudbloods," sneered Zabini. "They get more daft as the years continue."

"Filthy creatures, they are," agreed Nott. "Shouldn't be allowed at Hogwarts. It's unethical."

The train ride was uneventful after that, they held a brief chess tournament that Harry was proclaimed the victor of, and spent the majority of the time simply catching up and discussing the latest in pureblood politics.

Eventually, they felt the train slowing to a stop, and Draco reluctantly left Caelum in the train, while Harry allowed Regulus to slither up the wide sleeves of his pristine looking robes, his blond hair neatly combed into a soft, well trimmed cut, as opposed to Draco's slicked back hair.

"Firs' years o're 'ere! Firs' years!" a booming voice prevailed over the chatter of the older students, and the six pureblood boys scrunched up their noses in synchronized distaste at the sight of the half giant.

"Right, then, no more'n four t'a boat," said Hagrid, before lumbering over to a boat that he inhabited the entire space of. Draco and Harry were joined by Nott and Zabini in their boat, while Crabbe and Goyle rode a boat with Parkinson and Bulstrode, who was one of the lesser purebloods.

The boast slowly made their way through the water, and the trip only took so long to build up anticipation of the first sighting of the castle - though Harry and Draco had already visited on several occasions to visit their godfather, Severus Snape - and allow the older students to get situated in the Great Hall.

"O'er 'ere you'll be se'in the castle fer the first time," said Hagrid in his booming voice, and Draco and Harry rolled their eyes at the gasps of awe and wonder that the other incoming first years let out at seeing the castle - not like that was how _they'd _reacted on their first sighting. No, they were Malfoys and they were much more dignified than that.

Soon, they were all getting out of the boats, and Hagrid led them to the Entrance Hall, where they were met with a stern looking woman with black hair pulled into a tight bun topped with an emerald wizard's hat, who was wearing emerald robes.

"Here they are, Per'fessr McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said, and then turned to the students.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin-" here, Draco and Harry exchanged a smirk. "-Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Here, her eyes lingered on the dirt on Weasel-bee's nose, Longbottom's cloak, and scarhead's messy hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," continued Professor McGonagall. "Please wait."

Harry paused for a moment before turning his hair green and silver, causing several of the students to gasp - mainly the muggleborns and those who didn't know he was a metamorphmagus - before shifting it back to its usual platinum blonde.

"How did you do that?" asked Granger, practically pouncing on him.

"Talent," he said haughtily, and cackled when he overheard the conversation between Weasel-bee and Scarface.

"Really?" he scoffed. "A troll?" Ron scowled at him.

"You don't know either! You're just-"

"Oh, shut up, Weasel-bee," sneered Draco, and Ron looked surprised for a moment that Draco knew his surname. "And of course I knew who you were. Red hair, freckles, and hand-me-down robes are the tell-tale signs a Weasel is near." Ron's ears turned pink, and he began to say something in return, but the students were interrupted by the screams of several students, as the Hogwarts' ghosts streamed through the walls.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-" began a ghost that Harry recognized as the Fat Friar.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?" asked a ghost wearing a ruff and tights.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I presume?" Several students nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" he continued. "My old House, you know."

"Move along, now," came the stern voice of Professor McGonagall, who had returned from her journey into the Great Hall. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

"Now," she continued once the ghosts had left. "Form a line, and follow me." Harry and Draco confidently made their way through the door of the Great Hall, following McGonagall closely. In the background, Harry could vaguely hear the mudblood rattling off facts, and he smiled when he saw the Sorting Hat, and felt pleased when it began to sing.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty._

_But don't judge on what you see, _

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black, _

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart._

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry,_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true, _

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, _

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning, _

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap! _

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The students cheered for the Sorting Hat's song, and the hat in question took several deep bows, soaking up all the attention that his position offered him. Harry and Draco shot a smirk at Weasel-bee, who was sending a glare at his brothers, the twin terrors.

"When I call your name, you will but the hat on your head, and sit on the stool to be sorted," said McGonagall. "Abbott, Hannah!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Bones, Susan."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender."

"GRYFFINDOR!" Draco and Harry sneered when the table of the blood-traitors and mudblood lovers erupted in loud cheers.

"Bulstrode, Millicent."

"SLYTHERIN!" Harry and Draco clapped politely for the girl, who smiled victoriously as she slunk down to the Slytherin table. Crabbe soon followed her.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Granger, Hermione," called McGonagall, and the bushy-haired know-it-all walked forward, muttering things to herself.

_The chit is insane, _Harry projected to Draco.

_Ravenclaw?_

_ No, she'll be a filthy lion for sure._

"GRYFFINDOR!" Harry shot Draco a victorious smirk. Daphne was sorted into Slytherin, and then the name was called.

"Malfoy, Draco." Draco swaggered up to the hat, and it was on his head for less than a second before it belted out:

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Malfoy, Harrison." Again, the hat had barely touched his hair before it yelled out:

"SLYTHERIN!" The Slytherins cheered, pleased that they'd received the pair of Malfoys. Potter and Weasel-bee were sorted into Gryffindor, as expected, and Parkinson, Nott, Goyle, Zabini, and several other girls joined Slytherin House.

After the Sorting was completed, Dumbledore stood up to address the masses.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

The Slytherins all muttered darkly at Dumbledore's welcoming speech, and the general consensus that he was a mad, senile, old muggle-loving fool.

The food soon appeared on the long House tables, and the students wasted no time in digging in to the delicious food provided by the Hogwarts house elves. Harry ate a balanced meal of steamed vegetables, mixed fruits, lemon grilled chicken, and some potatoes, along with a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Cool snake, Harrison," commented sixth year Patrick Rosier, pointing at Regulus, who'd poked his head out of Harrison's sleeve to nibble on some roasted rabbit. "What kind?"

"A jaculus," said Harry proudly, and some of the older Slytherins nodded, making impressed noises. "My familiar. Draco and I both received one as our going-away gift. He received a chama."

"Where'd you get them?" asked Aurora Zabini (Blaise's elder sister) who was a seventh year.

"Knockturn, of course," supplied Draco, as Harry was taking a bite out of his treacle tart. "_Barcture and Boris, _yeah?" The more wealthy pureblood Slytherins nodded, especially those with darker family connections to the Dark Lord and such.

After a while, the meal ended, and Dumbledore once more stood up.

"Ahem - I just have a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Here Dumbledore looked at the twin terrors. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madame Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

The Slytherins muttered amongst themselves, wondering what dangerous thing could be hidden there, not that they would look. No, they had much better self-preservation skills than the Gryffindors, and smirked as they noticed several people laugh. They thought the old coot was joking. Joke's on them, then.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. "Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!" The ribbon like words flung themselves through the air, and a chorus of conflicting voices rang through the hall, everyone - including the Slytherins - grudgingly joining in.

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy-woggy Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please!_

_Whether we be old and bald,_

_Or young with scabby knees._

_Our heads could do with filling,_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and filled with air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff!_

_So teach us things worth knowing,,_

_Bring back what we've forgot. _

_Just do your best, _

_We'll do the rest._

_And learn 'till our brains rot!"_

The twin terrors ended the singing in a slow funeral march, and the old coot of a Headmaster conducted their last few lines with his wand, and, once they were finished, he was among those who clapped the loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

"First year Slytherins, follow me!" called out Marcus Flint, the fifth year prefect, who was smiling nastily at the first year Gryffindors.

"That's right," said Rosaline Prince, a distant relative of Professor Snape, the other fifth year prefect. "Follow us to the Slytherin common room." They made their way down to the dungeons, passing the Hufflepuffs, who made their way to near the kitchens. Once they reached there, Rosaline and Marcus motioned to a part of the cobblestone wall.

"The password for now is _'Salazar'_," said Rosaline. "The password is changed every week, so make sure to check the notice board, otherwise you'll be locked up." They entered the Slytherin common room quickly, it was comfy, and lit with green flames to keep warmth, as the Slytherin complex was underground.

"There are several rules within the Slytherin house," said Rosaline sternly. "House unity is important, as we cannot show weaknesses in front of the other Houses. If you have a quarrel with one in our House, keep it strictly within the walls of the Slytherin common room. Homework is to be done on time, and there will be no slacking off." She sniffed haughtily.

"Contrary to the other houses, Salazar was more thoughtful in the mapping out and rooming of his students," continued Marcus. "Other houses share dormitories, but each year has a different wing of the dungeons, following one of the tunnels downwards, that has connecting rooms for each of the students of one gender in that year."

"They may not be up to the standards you are used to, but we couldn't provide everything," here, some of the students laughed. "And it should be noted that students of one sex cannot enter the rooms of those of the opposite sex, not that we need to worry about that with first years." He shot a rather eerie smile.

"First year girls, take the first tunnel on your left, boys, same, on your right. Rosaline and I will show you how to get to your classes the first week, so be several minutes early, as we will only show you how to get to each class one time. Capiche?"

The first years all nodded mutely and scampered off, eager to see their rooms. Harry and Draco made their way down the winding tunnel, lit only by the green flames, leading the way for the other boys in their year. Harry and Draco were pleased to find they had conjoining rooms, though Draco's room also connected with Blaise's, who connected with Theodore's who connected with Crabbe's who connected to Goyle's, forming an incomplete dome with a small communal studying area.

Each room had its own en suite, which was a relief.

Each room had a queen sized canopy bed, a large wardrobe and ornate desk, as well as a fireplace. The view was the most impressive thing, though, as the far wall was made out of unbreakable glass that showed the inside of the Black Lake, illuminated by the green torches and the moonlight, allowing the Slytherin students to take in the beautiful view.

_Goodnight, Draco, _projected Harry sleepily, curling up in the comfortable bed, pulling on the warm blankets, as Regulus curled up on the pillow next to him. As per usual, Dobby had delivered the customary pair of silk night clothes and glass of warm milk.

_Goodnight, Harry_, Draco sent back, pausing for a moment before continuing. _It'll be a bit of an easier transition for us, seeing as we already know where everything is, as Uncle Sev showed us all the shortcuts and secret passageways._

_Yeah, _sniggered Harry mentally. _Joke's on everyone else when they get lost. _The link went silent as the two drifted off to sleep, Draco with a warm ball of fur curled up next to his chest, as the two slept eagerly in anticipation of the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: The Potions Master and Favoratism**

From the way Harry and Draco made their way quickly to the Great Hall, without the aid of the prefects, one would think that navigating the castle was easy.

That was not the case.

There were one hundred and forty-two staircases in the castle, all of which moved, sweeping and narrow, some rickety, soome that led somewhere different on a Friday, others with a vanishing step halfway down that you had to remember to jump. Then there were the doors. Some wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and the majority of the coats of armor were sentient and could walk around wherever they pleased.

The ghosts didn't bother to help struggling students, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to get open. The Bloody Baron looked out for the younger Slytherins, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeve, if possible, was the caretaker, a filthy squib by the name of Argus Filch. Though he left Draco and Harry alone most of the time, he was particularly nasty to all things magical except his cat, a magical kneazle named Mrs. Norris, who would always follow you around with wide yellow, lamp-like eyes much like those of her Master. Put one toe out of line when she was near, and she'd go bolting away, and would return moments later with Filch, who would be wheezing, and pointing fingers, eager to assign detention.

Then, once you managed to find them, there were the classes, which were all very easy in the opinions of Draco and Harry.

Every Wednesday nights, the first years gathered in the Astronomy Tower with their telescopes to observe the night skies, discussing lunar phases and spotting constellations. The knowledge provided in Astronomy was useful for Herbology and Potions, as ingredients for a potion could be affected based on what stage of the lunar phase they were harvested.

Three times a week ––– Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays ––– the Slytherins and Ravenclaws would gather in the Greenhouses with Professor Sprout (the Hufflepuff head) to study exotic plants in the class known as Herbology. It was one of Draco's least favorite classes, as he despised getting dirty, and it was inevitable when one had to tough _dirt _to plant things.

Really, couldn't they just use house elves and be done with it?

One of the most boring classes was History of Magic, which was taught by Professor Binns, who had been dead for Merlin knows how long. Draco and Harry used this time for independent study, reviewing over their logbook of familial history and pureblood lineage, as well as going over the necessary coursework for the end-of-the-year exams.

Charms was taught by Professor Flitwick, a rather small, excitable man who Draco and Harry were sure had goblin blood in his veins somewhere, but the Ravenclaw Head of House was a formidable duelist and deserved their respect, which they grudgingly gave to him. One of the highlights of his class had been when he'd been calling roll on the first day, and had stumbled upon Scarhead's name and had gone tumbling off of the stool he'd been standing on.

Professor McGonagall was not a teacher to be crossed. She was very strict, yet fair, and the Slytherins respected her for that, but she was Dumbledore's right-hand-woman, so they didn't trust her that much. She'd warned them all against misbehaving in her class on the first day, had transfigured her desk into a pig and then back again, quickly shocking the students into silence and beginning her lesson.

After a session of complicated notes that Harry and Draco took diligently, even though they'd all covered the material, McGonagall instructed them to try and turn a match into a needle. By the end of the period, both Harry and Draco had been successful, and McGonagall gave them each five points for Slytherin. None of the Hufflepuffs had made any progress.

At first, Harry and Draco were looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts to examine the spells that they'd be up against once the war picked up again, but were sorely disappointed. Quirrell was a joke.

His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, as he'd told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed the story. For one, when the Irish twit, Finnigan, asked eagerly how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the twin terrors could be easily overheard insisting that it was stuffed full of garlic, as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Draco and Harry woke up the first Friday of the year with anticipation, grinning to themselves as they hurriedly got ready for the day. The previous day, they'd received a letter from their parents stating how proud they were of them, and Harry and Draco had sent a reply of an update of how they were doing so far.

That Friday was important, though, because it was their first potions lesson with their godfather, Severus Snape. Double potions with the Gryffindors, which was sure to be a fun time, as Draco and Harry could easily earn point for Slytherin while Scarhead and Weasel-bee would surely lose points, as well as Lardbottom.

Because they were so excited, Harry and Draco arrived at the potions classroom a few minutes early, and Snape greeted them warmly with a smile as they sat at the front of the classroom.

"I trust that you went over the coursework over the summer as per my instruction?" he asked, his black eyes shining with pride as the boys nodded confidently.

"Of course, Uncle Sev," said Harry. "We want to be able to show those pompous Gryffindors where the money _really _is." Severus smirked as Draco nodded enthusiastically, which was slightly unbecoming for a Malfoy, but both boys had a passion for potions, similar to what Severus had been like when he was younger.

"You will do well to remember that, Harrison," said Snape, and then exited so that he could make a dramatic entrance when all the students were gathered in the classroom.

Once everyone was situated, Snape stormed in, his cloak billowing behind him, and he looked slightly like a menacing bat, but Harry and Draco both found the display impressive.

As he called roll, he paused slightly when he came across Jamie Potter's name.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Potter, our new _celebrity."_ He finished roll and began his speech.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class," drawled Professor Snape. "Many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even… put a stopper… in _death_ ––– if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence ensued after the speech, and Harry and Draco exchanged confident smirks, and laughed inwardly at the spectacle the mudblood was making of herself ––– leaning forward and grasping at the desk in front of her, as if desperate to prove that she wasn't, in anyway, a dunderhead. As per usual, Scarhead wasn't paying attention, and Snape easily picked up on that fact.

"Potter!" he barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" The confident, cocky look slid off of Scarhead's face as a puzzled one replaced it.

"I don't know, sir." Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut ––– fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored the mudblood's hand, which had shot into the air eagerly.

"Let's try again, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" The confused look seemed to have a permanent sticking charm attaching it to Potter's befuzzled face, and he once more looked down.

"I don't know, sir." Hermione's arm had once more shot up, and it seemed to be flying higher and higher, as if she was trying to fly out of her seat. The Slytherin boys started shaking with laughter at the very sight of her.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" sneered Snape, who was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Jamie quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" At this, a few students laughed, and Harry noticed Finnigan wink at Scarface.

"Sit down," Snape snapped at Hermione, who reluctantly returned to her seat. "Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Malfoy, would you please answer my questions?"

"The combination of asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful that it is known as the Draught of Living Death," recited Harry from memory.

"A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons," continued Draco, smirking at Potter victoriously.

"And there is no different between monkshood and wolfsbane," said Harry. "It was a trick question. It's the same plant, also-"

"-known by the name aconite," finished Draco, and the rest of the class sat in stunned silence.

"Well?" thundered Professor Snape menacingly. "Why aren't you all writing this down?" He turned to sneer at Scarhead. "Five points will be taken for your cheek, Potter, and ten points each for Slytherin for an excellent explanation of the questions Potter failed to answer and the forward preparation and the knowledge to actually open a book." He then told them to partner up and work on preparing the common cure for boils, a rather rudimentary potion for beginners.

He stalked around like a bat, breathing down everyone's necks except the Slytherins, watching with a keen eye as they weighed dried nettles and crushed snake fangs, criticizing all the Gryffindors, but praising Harry and Draco, who he favored openly.

He'd been in the process of telling everyone to look at the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs, and how Harry had crushed up the nettles and heated them to ensure maximum dryness when clouds of acid green smoke filled the dungeons.

Lardbottom had somehow managed to melt Finnigan's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy !" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Lardbottom whimpered as boils began erupting all over his face.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Finnigan. He then rounded on Scarhead and Weasel-bee, who had been working next to Lardbottom.

"You –– Potter –– why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another five points you've lost for Gryffindor." It was so ridiculously unfair that Harry and Draco nearly cracked their ribs trying to hold in suppress laughter, and Snape shot them a smirking look with his eyes before returning to tormenting Potter, before dismissing the class for the day.

Later in the evening, after finishing the analysis of the ingredients of the common cure for boils for Potions homework, and finishing the essay for Charms on the importance of wand movement and incantation, as well as they lunar chart for Astronomy –– Professor Sinistra had a strict no late work police –– the two brothers retired to the Great Hall for their evening meal.

The next morning, Regulus was returned to Harry's sleeve, as the snake that had been gradually getting larger had been off hunting in the Forbidden Forest, and the two brothers quickly made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. The screeching of owls brought their attention to the sky as the owl post arrived.

Zeus, the giant eagle owl their family owned, dropped in front of them, a letter tied to his beak and packages of sweets attached to his talons.

"_Thanks, Zeus," _whispered Draco, using the gift he'd been given, allowing him to communicate with all animals.

"_Anytime, Master Draco," _the owl hooted back. "_I'll be waiting in the owlery for your response letter." _Draco nodded, and took the letter as Harry unwrapped the packages, and Zeus was off.

"Dear Harrison and Draco," read Harry. "If you noticed this mornings edition of _The Daily Prophet _from other students, you will be aware that there was an attempted break-in at Gringotts. You need not be alarmed, as it was simply the actions of our lost Lord in his search for a new, more powerful, body." Harry paused, getting excited of the prospect of Lord Voldemort rising to power once more. "We, of course, will be safe from any backlash, and keep Fudge in our pocket as always, leeching money off of unsuspecting peoples and increasing the Malfoy –– and Black –– family fortunes."

"I am pleased to hear of your progress in your studies, and am confident that you are doing the House of Malfoy proud. Your mother sends her love, and would like to repeat the notion that should you need anything, just call on your house elves to alert her. I think she's having a bit of the empty-nest syndrome, what with you boys now being here. Anyways, I must end this letter here, make sure to burn it. You never know who's watching. With love and warm regards, your father, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy."

Draco and Harry exchanged sly looked before quickly burning the parchment, which was easy enough seeing as the Great Hall was still mostly abandoned, as it was a Saturday evening.

The two of them quickly made their way to the library, where they would join their study group (themselves, Nott, Zabini, Greengrass, and three pureblood blood purists from Ravenclaw, MacMillan, Boot, and Turpin) in order to revise the homework from the week and exchange notes.

Following lunch, the Slytherins and Gryffindors would be meeting for flying lessons, and Draco and Harry were once more eager to see the Gryffindors make fools of themselves.

As one o'clock neared, as the group of students had taken a brief break for lunch, the Slytherins politely excused themselves from the library, making sure to put any books they'd used for reference away in the correct places, as it never hurt to have Madame Pince on your good side.

They neared the courtyard near the Quidditch pitch, where the first years went to learn how to fly brooms. Everything had been going swimmingly –– one of the highlights being when Madame Hooch (Slytherin alumni) informed Scarhead that he'd been mounting his broom wrong all through the years –– and then the amusement came in the form of Lardbottom.

Somehow, the idiot squib had managed to lose control of his broom, and was soon zooming all over the courtyard, before he finally fell off of the broomstick and landed on the ground with an ominous sounding _thud!_

"Out of my way!" screeched Madame Hooch, pushing through the crowd of curious children that swarmed like bees to honey, before carefully picking up Lardbottom and tutting to herself.

"That's a broken wrist," she said. She fixed all of the other first year's with a hard glare. "Not a foot off the ground until I return from bringing him to the hospital wing. Those I find in the air will be expelled before they can say 'Quidditch'." The grey haired, hawk-eyed lady then quickly made way to the castle, levitating Lardbottom after her.

"Did you see his face?" cackled Harry to the Slytherins, changing his facial features to mimic Lardbottom's terrified expression, causing his friends to howl along with him like hyenas. Draco, on the other hand, walked over to where Lardbottom had landed and picked up the glass sphere the squib had received in the mail earlier.

"Maybe if Lardbottom'd squeezed this," said Draco, sneered. "He'd have remembered to land on his fat ass." The Slytherins cackled again, and Scarhead stepped forward boldly.

"Give it here, Malfoy," he said snidely, and Draco smirked back at him.

"No, I think I'll leave it up somewhere for Lardbottom to find. Coming, Harry?" he said, mounting his broom and taking off, Harry quickly following him. The three began an odd sort of variation of monkey in the middle, Scarhead trying desperately to retrieve the rememberall.

"Give it here Malfoy, or I'll knock you off your broom!" said Scarhead in what he thought was a threatening voice, but it was nowhere near the standards set by an angry Narcissa Malfoy, so the two brothers weren't impressed.

"Alright, then. Go get it!" said Draco, and he hurled the small glass sphere for all he was worth, watching Scarhead chase after it before landing alongside Harry. Unluckily for the two brothers, Scarhead actually managed to catch the small thing, but their spirits lightened immediately when McGonagall came thundering out onto the courtyard.

"POTTER!" The Slytherins once more let out little bouts of laughter, high-fiving and wondering when Potter would be packing his bags. One less blood-traitor the better, after all.

After flying lessons ended, they made their way back through the halls of Hogwarts, going back over the highlights of the flying lesson, including Granger refusing to so much as touch her broom after she saw what Lardbottom's had done to him.

However, when they saw Potter, most definitely _not _expelled, and strutting around the castle arrogantly, they knew something was up. And then, Harry and Draco received the worst of news from the Bloody Baron. Potter was officially the youngest seeker on the Quidditch team in a century, and had gotten off scott-free.

"Uncle Sev!" they called, busting into his office, crying out protests at the injustice of it all, and once he finally managed to calm them down enough to get the full story out of them, he, too, was furious.

"Blatant favoritism for the brat just because he's famous," growled Snape, and Draco and Harry nodded, the three of them sharing a common anger.

"Father _will _be hearing about this," said Draco smartly, and he and Harry quickly left to write a _very _annoyed letter informing their father of the events that had transpired that day. After all, Dumbledore couldn't just break the rules for anyone because they were famous.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: The Midnight Duel and Hallow's Eve**

Sure enough, as soon as they had left the office of their Uncle Sev, the two rather irritated young aristocrats wrote a very annoyed letter to their father, claiming the injustice of seeing one being favored by others simply because he was famous, and from the Headmaster of the school, no less! The two of them were sure that their father –– who was on the board of governors –– would get the issue resolved quickly and efficiently. He'd never failed to come through with his power and wealth before, as a little throwing around of bribes worked wonders when one was gaining a political standing.

That, and they knew that their Father enjoyed baiting wealthy muggle women under the guise of a forbidden, romantic affair, and ended up seizing all of their liquid and monetary assets and converting them into galleons at Gringotts after killing them. Arcturus Black was in his later years, now, so Harry would soon receive the Black family fortune as well.

As of the moment, though, the Malfoy family was the wealthiest family in the magical community, their Gringotts vaults tipped the scale at just over 4 billion galleons. It might have seemed like an overly luxurious and seemingly impossible amount of gold to have in their possession, but the Malfoy's had always invested wisely, and had only gained revenue after many long years of existence, never once losing a penny.

They'd even managed to trick several blood traitor families into signing over their entire fortunes and properties to them, providing the Malfoys with villas and bungalows and private islands to retreat to each summer, even though Malfoy Manor was perhaps one of the grandest buildings in the magical world at the moment, second to only the older magical schools. After finishing up the last touches of their rather passionate letter in elegant script, making sure there wasn't a single smudge on the parchment –– Father _hated _smudged parchment –– the two Malfoy heirs signed their names and made their way to the Great Hall for dinner.

The two of them approached the Gryffindor table, as there weren't many there, just the few dwindling, which included Granger, Weasel-bee, and Scarhead.

"You think you're so clever, Potter," spat out Draco maliciously. "Strutting about the school as if you own it, just because you got famous for something you can't even remember. It disgusts me. A blood traitor, of all people, getting special attention. But, then again, the Potters have always been blood traitors, even before your father married your filthy mudblood mother-" This got the response Draco had been waiting for, as Jamie immediately sprung up as if to clobber the blond over the head, but Ron held him down –– albeit a tad begrudgingly.

"Easy there, Scarhead," sneered Draco. "You forget your place in society. Down in the slums with the weasels, rats, and other filth." Ron's ears reddened in anger, and Jamie began to protest hotly.

"You're a lot braver when you're around others, then when you're alone," said Jamie coolly. "I wouldn't expect anything less of a Slytherin, though, always worming your way out of situations like a snake."

"_Did someone mention me?" _hissed Regulus as he slid out of the neck hole in Harry's robes, emerging from his slumber, as Regulus was mostly nocturnal. Both Scarhead and Weasel-bee flinched at the sight of the snake, but kept on their quote on quote 'game faces' determined to not back down.

"Alright then, we'll have a little one-on-one. Midnight duel in the trophy room. Who's your second."

"I'll be," said Ron. "And yours?"

"Me, of course," said Harry, rolling his eyes as Regulus slithered back down his arm, the large green python-esque snake grumbling about stupid rodents interrupting his sleep. "Really, Weasel-bee, lack of social status, wealth, and decorum should not automatically lead to lack of intelligence and common sense." Before the embarrassed red-head could respond, the two brothers were sauntering away.

_I assume that you've managed to concoct a plan to hatch revenger? _Harry projected into his brother's mind. Draco turned to face him as they walked, his eyebrow raised in an 'are you kidding me?' look.

_Of course brother, I am surprise that you think so little of myself and my superb planning skills._

_ The back garden at the Parkinson's, when we were eight- _Harry began to project back, but Draco cut him off fiercely.

_That was _one _time! And we were eight._

_ Excuses, excuses, Draco. That poor, poor-_

_ Enough! _Draco snapped through the mental connection, using his 'Lord Malfoy' voice, and Harry reeled back as though he'd been struck. Draco's silver gaze softened slightly.

_I'm sorry, brother… just, please, don't mention 'the incident'._

_ It's alright brother, I'm sorry for pushing you, _Harry responded. _And I forgive you… and fine, I won't mention it again._ The two once more relaxed and continued at a leisurely pace back to the Slytherin common room.

"_Basilisk," _whispered Draco, and the cobblestone wall rippled and moved to the side, allowing the two brothers entry into the common room. As they walked down the winding pathway to their rooms, Draco began to explain his plan

"Potter and Weasley, being the pathetic Gryffindor scum they are, won't be able to resist the idea of a fight. I've already tipped off Filch that they'll be there around midnight, and to keep an eye out for them. I told him I heard them discussing the sneaking-out earlier. Knowing Granger, she'll try to stop them, and she'll get caught up, too."

Harry nodded, easily seeing where his brother was going with this. While Harry preferred elaborate, surprising plans, Draco's schemes were always simple and to-the-point.

"Well done, brother," said Harry, commending his brother for the successful planning. "We will sleep soundly tonight."

"Yes, we will," said Draco with a smile.

The next morning, Harry and Draco made their way down to the Great Hall, and were surprised to see Potter and Weasley still sitting at the Gryffindor table, though they were glaring at the duo of Malfoys.

"It seems like they managed to worm their way out of trouble yet again," muttered Harry. "How very Slytherin of them." Draco looked repulsed.

"The gall of it all!" he exclaimed, before sitting down and beginning to load his plate with eggs and bacon. "A Gryffindor, acting like a Slytherin."

"A wolf in sheep's clothing," Harry agreed. A large screech informed them of the arrival of the owl post, which did not listen to the muggle rule of 'no post on Sundays'.

"Look, Draco," said Harry excitedly as Zeus touched down next to them. "Father wrote back."

"_Good job, Zeus," _said Draco, pleased.

"_It was no problem, Master Draco. I will be waiting in he owlery, as always."_ At the scent of owl and the sound of hooting and beating wings, Regulus crept out of Harry's sleeve with a yawn.

_"Stupid small animals, always disturbing my slumber." _The serpent was growing rapidly, and was already as thick as Harry's arm and longer than the combined length of Harry's arms.

"_You don't have a problem with Caelum," _Harry pointed out, and the snake hissed in a shrug-like manner, if that made sense.

"_But the feline is a hunting companion, so its alright, for now, I suppose. Though it _does _spend quite a lot of time fraternizing with that beast of a kneazle… what was her name? Mrs. Norris?"_

Both Harry and Draco choked on the pumpkin juice they were drinking, and Draco coughed hysterically for a moment, before composing himself.

"_Mrs. Norris?" _he demanded, and Regulus nodded his serpentine head.

"_That is what I said," _Regulus repeated in a bored tone.

"Mrs. Norris…" Draco muttered to himself. "I will be giving that cat a firm talking to when I return to my room this evening."

"Father is doing his best to get the Board of Governors to forfeit Potter's right to play Quidditch, as it _is _bending of the rules, but they're skeptical that its a matter worth paying attention to at the moment. Father says that if we don't get Potter kicked off of the Gryffindor team, he'll buy out Marcus Flint with the newest broom models next year so the two of us get on he team."

Harry smiled wickedly.

"Could you imagine the two of us as beaters together? Though the twin terrors may have a twin bond, we have a blood bond, which would make us practically unstoppable… and we'd be able to clobber Potter and the rest of the blood traitors without getting in trouble!" said Harry gleefully. "Oh, its wonderful just _thinking _about it."

The two were caught in thought for a moment, blissfully thinking of the time when they would be able to compete on their House Quidditch team.

"Come on," said Harry, marching Draco up to the seventh floor at the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

"Dobby mentioned that this would be a good place to practice our more… particular magic, as I'm finding the coursework here rather dull." Draco smirked.

"I thought I was the only one."

"You were sorely mistaken." Harry paced back and forth in front of the portrait three times, and smirked in satisfaction when the door appeared.

"Welcome, brother, to the Room of Requirement." When they entered, there were tomes of books on Dark Magic, most of which they'd been practicing from since the tender age of seven, when their cores had been deemed stable enough to wield wands. There were also practice dummies as well as small animals, and Harry knew they'd be using the small animals as targets more often than not. He flipped open to Chapter Eighteen of '_Magicks for the Intermediate Dark Wizard'._

"Now that you have mastered both the vein rupturing and blinding curses," Harry read. "We will continue on to some of the more advanced intermediate dark magic. The blood-curdling curse has been around since the early 16th century, and was used to torture prisoners under the Dark Lord Phantom, who was the creator of the curse. The incantation is '_sanguinem obstiterit', _and the wand movement is a figure eight with a sharp jap upwards and to the right once the figure eight is completed." He and Draco exchanged smirking looks, and flicked out their more illegal wands from the invisible holsters on their wrists.

Though this was very advanced magic for children their age, they had been learning for a long time, so it was expected that they could master things quickly. After all, they had so much to learn and so little time to learn it all in before the Dark Lord rose to power once more. Thus was the standard of the devoted pureblooded follower. Harry knew personally that the Notts had been training Theodore, and Mrs. Zabini had already begun Blaise's training.

Harry and Draco practiced the wand movement several times, as well as the correct pronunciation of the spell: "_San-guee-nem obs-tite-rayt"_ before finally unlocking the cage containing two small rabbits. Draco tried first.

"_Sanguinem obstiterit!" _he said firmly, but as he practiced the wand movement, his uppercut was a bit shaky and instead of the blood curdling in the rabbit, the rabbit's skin began to peel itself off of the rabbit's body. It was a gruesome sight, but Harry and Draco had seen worse. Their father _had _had to teach them how to properly dispose of muggles at an early age.

"_Sanguinem obstiterit!" _tried Harry. His spell was more successful than Draco's, but still did not have the desired effect, as the blood exploded out of the rabbit, and it was only a quick shield on Draco's part that prevented them from being splattered in the dark crimson liquid.

Draco and Harry exchanged a disgusted look before they began laughing rather hysterically and having the Room clean itself up. They practiced for three more hours, gaining progress every time, but had not yet managed to curdle the blood like spoilt milk. Boiling, yes. Curdling, no.

Finally, the two boys caved to exhaustion and vowed that they would be back the next weekend to continue their studies, which was much more than Potter had ever done in his entire life, as the pompous ass had always had everything handed to him on a golden platter.

They quickly made their way to the Slytherin Common room and found themselves the first to bed –– not that it mattered, their homework was always completed straight away so they had time for further independent study.

The next morning, the two of them prepared for a day of Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Charms with the Gryffindors.

"Good morning, class," said Professor Sprout brightly as she bustled through the greenhouse with her usual kindly attitude. "Today, we will be going over Devil's Snare, though we will not be interacting with it as it is a rather dangerous species of plant should you not know how to deal with it! Thankfully, I will prepare you for such an occurrence today-"

The lesson drolled on, and Harry took notes diligently, even though he'd already gone over this with his Father when they were at the Bulgarian villa. Draco, as it seemed, was doodling aimlessly on his piece of parchment, and Harry clucked his tongue fondly.

_Slacking, Draco? My, my, what would Father think? _Harry projected, and Draco gave a little hop, looking up at Harry guiltily.

_I know, it's just going over things I already know is so _boring_, Father said the only reason he didn't have us moved up a couple of years is because the Dark Lord will want a reliable source on Potter when he comes back._

_ It's fine, you can copy my notes later._

"Mr. Malfoy –– Harrison, I mean –– would you mind telling me one way of fending off Devil's Snare?"

"Conjuring up a flame, such as the incantation '_incendio'," _Harry recited without a second thought, and mentally kicked himself for how much like the mudblood he sounded. Sprout, however, smiled at him.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Take five points for Slytherin." And so the lesson continued on in a rather droll manner, Harry taking notes and Draco doodling. After Draco had finished a rather lovely stick figure portrayal of Scarhead getting struck by lightning, he performed a rather advanced animation charm on the picture, causing it to come to life.

Harry could tell that Draco was pleased, it practically radiated off of his brother in droves, and Harry shook his head fondly.

When the bell rang, Harry and Draco were among the first out of the room, having already had their satchels packed up and ready to go when Sprout dismissed them, heading over to double charms with the Gryffindors, where they would spend the day practicing the levitation charm.

As soon as they entered, the class began, Flitwick muttering happily at the progress of the students. Draco and Harry had paused to listen to the mudblood and the weasel bicker.

"You're saying it wrong," said Hermione pompously. "It's levi-_oh-_sah, not levio-_sah_."

"You do it then, if you're so clever!" grumbled Weasley, and Hermione seemed to take that as a personal challenge.

"Wingardium leviosa!" she said, and with a neat swish and flick of her wand, her feather raised high into the air.

"Why, look here!" said Professor Flitwick eagerly. "Miss Granger's done it!" Harry, not one to be surpassed by a mudblood, pointed his wand at himself.

"Wingardium leviosa!"

"Oi! Professor! Look at what Malfoy's doing!" said Scarhead, pointing at the levitating Harry, smiling to himself, as if he was somehow getting Harry into trouble.

"I'll say, Mr. Malfoy!" came Flitwick's excited cry once more. "Self-levitation! How clever of you! Take ten points to Slytherin!" Harry beamed. With all of the points Uncle Sev deducted from other Houses and gave to Slytherin, as well as the other points Harry and Draco had won for diligent work in classes, Slytherin was a shoe-in for the House Cup this year.

Hermione huffed at Harry's display and spent the rest of the class period trying to one-up him, though she failed miserably, as she hadn't been practicing magic long enough to have the same control over her magical core that Harry and Draco had over theirs.

"It's levi-_ohhh-_sa, not levio-_saaah_," Weasel-bee was mimicking Hermione to the crowd that consisted of Scarhead, Finnigan, and mudblood Thomas. "Honestly, she's a nightmare. It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends." Harry and Draco sniggered as they saw the mudblood push past the boys, wiping a few tears from her eyes.

"I think she heard you…" said Scarhead uneasily to Ron, who shrugged nervously.

"Well she's got to have noticed she hasn't got any friends," Ron continued snidely, and Draco piped in.

"She has as many friends as the amount of gold in your Gringotts vault," he crowed, and Harry pulled him away.

"Draco," he hissed. "Stop antagonizing them. I know we could easily beat him in a fight, but we don't need to draw unwanted attention to ourselves. If Dumbledore begins watching us, who knows what could happen?"

They had no homework for the day, so they returned to the Room of Requirement, continuing to practice the blood curdling curse until dinner, and by then they'd made no progress, so they made their way down to the Halloween feast.

There had been merriment all around the Slytherin table as they exchanged scary stories in a rare show of light-heartedness, but the mood was ruined when Professor Quirrell came bursting into the Great Hall, caterwauling like a banshee.

"TROLL! TROOOLLLL! IN THE DUNGEONS." He paused. "Thought you 'ought to know." And upon those words, Quirrell promptly fainted.

Chaos ensued around the Great Hall until Dumbledore cast a _sonorous _charm on his throat.

"QUIET!" he boomed, and the Hall stilled. "Prefects, take the students to their common rooms while the teachers take care of the troll."

"OI! PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!" cried one of the Slytherin seventh years. "YOU SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT THE SLYTHERIN COMMON ROOM ARE IN THE DUNGEONS!" Dumbledore paused.

"Slytherin students may remain in the Great Hall." It took a while to calm everyone down, including the Slytherins, who were left to their own devices in the Great Hall, and they slowly but surely began to finish their meal, waiting for the Professors to come and fetch them.

Professor Snape came in a moment later with a limp, muttering about Potter and Weasley stopping the troll, and Harry found himself briefly stunned. Potter, the idiot who had little more power than a squib had taken on a fully grown mountain troll and _survived?_

As he asked the question, five more ruby red gems fell into the Gryffindor hourglass, signalling Potter had received five points for his bravery. A smirk once more found its way onto Harry's face seamlessly, as he made more points than that daily for good work.

"Slytherins, you may return to your dormitories, the troll has been taken care of," said Uncle Sev, and they all nodded, some still in slight shock from the events that had transpired that evening.

"Do you think it was a move by You-Know-Who?" asked Harry.

"Maybe, Father mentioned in an earlier letter that Dumbledore was guarding something at the school, something that the Dark Lord wanted to return to full power and glory… but, its better we don't get involved unless we need to. As you said earlier, we don't need any more suspicion on our shoulders… even though the suspicion that is already there is due to the fact that we are Malfoys."

Harry smirked.

"They were right to fear us, though."

"Right you are, brother," said Draco, before slinking off to his room. Harry stumbled into his own and found Regulus already curled up on one of the pillows, having come back from a day's long hunting expedition that would keep him satisfied for the rest of the week.

Harry's dreams were filled with ruby stones and a strange glittering mirror, along with three-headed dogs and swarms of angry bird-like creatures, but would remember none of it by the time he woke up the next morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: In Which Classes Occur and Quidditch Takes Place**

After the troll incident on Halloween, the band of Slytherins were left alone, not bothering with the taunting of the newly formed 'Golden Trio', simply because the three Gryffindor misfits –– really, Lardbottom should have been in their little group as well –– could hardly ever be found. Harry and Draco suspected that they knew what was being hidden in Hogwarts –– or at least knew that something was hidden –– and were digging their noses into places they didn't belong. After all, things were kept secret for a reason.

Because of the lack of constant bickering, Harry and Draco managed to progress in their studies by leaps and bounds, hurdling over the other struggling first years, and managed to still have time to complete their on-the-side projects. December was rolling in, and with it, the first Quidditch match of the season –– Gryffindor vs. Slytherin –– Marcus Flint, the captain, had been particularly brutal in preparing all of the players, especially Terrence Higgs, the seeker, and McDoul and Derrik, the two beaters, who would be graduating next year.

Everyone with more than two brain cells to rub together had to admit that Potter was a rather nifty flier, but that didn't mean that the Slytherins had to like that small fact. There was a reason he was the youngest Seeker in the century, even with his horrible eyesight.

Draco, Harry, Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and all the other Slytherin first years were prepped and ready to support their classmates in the game, and Harry had turned his hair Slytherin green for the occasion to match his silver eyes.

"It's strange to see you actually utilize your metamorphmagus skills," commented Draco as the two of them walked to the Great Hall to meet Nott and Zabini to trek up to the Slytherin Quidditch stands –– the goons Crabbe and Goyle having already gone to save seats.

"It is," said Harry, making a small humming noise at himself. "I never really saw the need, as I am proud to wear my natural Malfoy features… though I suppose it _will _come in handy later on, if you catch my drift." Draco nodded, and the two silently ended their conversation as they approached Nott and Zabini.

"Aurora's very excited for this match," said Zabini in reference to his sister. "It'll be her last match against Gryffindor, as it is her seventh year. Even with Potter, she can't wait to pummel the lions into submission."

"She's a chaser, correct?" asked Harry. "Along with Flint and Montague?"

"Yeah," said Nott distractedly as they made their way outside, beating the rush of the crowd by a good half an hour. "Hopefully McDoul and Derrik actually play their part."

"Flint would scalp them if they didn't," said Harry, a small frown crossing his aristocratic features. "He's been drilling them for the past two months, as soon as he knew what Wood would be doing."

"What do you think they'll be doing about Wood?" asked Zabini, his facial expression matching that of Harrison's.

"Even though the Woods _are _filthy blood-traitors, you have to admit that he's a damn good Keeper," said Nott. "Flint's best bet is to have McDoul or Derrik knock him off of his broom so he's out for the rest of the game."

"That would force the Gryffindork chasers to play both offense and defense," said Draco, a nasty smile plastered across his face, and, in a moment of day-dreaming that was highly unusual for Draco, the blond elder Malfoy tripped.

"_Spongify," _said Harry with a wave of his wand, and Draco landed on the ground as if it was a muggle trampoline, not hard earth. He got up, shooting Zabini and Nott looks to shut them up, and raised an eyebrow at Harry. "_Scourgify._" And Draco was clean.

"That's a fifth year level spell," exclaimed Nott, peering at Harry curiously.

"Your parents have your training, our parents have ours, let bygones by bygones and lets not mention this little incident to anyone else, no?" Harry pulled out his copy of '_Obscure Jinxes and Spells for the Insufferable Target' _and smiled at them, flipping open to page sixty-four.

"I was thinking we could use this one on Potter, seeing as his hair is like his child. _Calvario _is the hair-loss spell."

"But anyone could see that you cast the spell if they use '_priori incantatum'_," reasoned Blaise, and Draco and Harry exchanged a chuckle.

"Don't worry, we won't get caught."

They finished their journey to the top of the Slytherin stands –– where they would get the best view of the overall game –– without any further incidents.

The boys made idle chat –– except for Crabbe and Goyle, who just grunted, as per usual –– and watched as the other students and staff of the school began to file in, Madame Hooch taking up her position on a broom in the center of the field, waiting for the two teams to be announced.

Harry took a moment to flip through '_Magicks for the Intermediate Dark Wizard'_, which he had illusioned to appear to be a copy of '_The Standard Book of Spells, Year One'_, and folded another page in the highly worn, dog-eared book. The page contained several spells of interest, including _expulsis aruspices_, the Entrail-Expelling curse, and _decorticare cutis _a curse that made the target's skin peel off.

"Look, the game's starting!" Zabini's excited call made Harry's head snap to attention, and he let the extra, more powerful wand slip out of the holster.

"Mount your brooms, please," they could hear Madame Hooch say.

"And the quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor –– what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too ––"

"JORDAN" bellowed Professor McGonagall, as it seemed that Lee Jordan, the friend and accomplice of the twin terrors was running the commentary for Quidditch this season.

"Sorry, Professor."

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's last year only a reserve –– back to Johnson and –– no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes –– Flint flying like an eagle up there –– he's going to sc –– no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle –– that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and –– OUCH –– that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger –– Quaffle taken by the Slytherins –– that's Aurora Zabini speeding off toward the goalposts, but she's blocked by a second Bludger –– sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which –– nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes –– she's really flying –– dodges a speeding Bludger –– the goalposts are ahead –– come on, now, Angelina –– Keeper Bletchley dives –– misses –– GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the air, followed quickly by the groans of the Slytherins, including several boos led by the Malfoy brothers.

After Johnson had scored, Potter began doing loop-the-loops in an arrogant show of skill, so Harry raised his wand, aimed, and muttered: "_calbario"_.

"MY LORD –– What on _EARTH _has happened to the hair of Gryffindor Seeker Jamie Potter? Why, it's almost as if ––"

"JORDAN!"

"Right, sorry, Professor. Slytherin in possession. Chaser Zabini ducks two Bludgers, two Weasley, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the –– wait a moment –– was that the Snitch?" Zabini dropped the Quaffle into Montague's waiting arms in surprise of the snitch flying right past her ear, and both Potter and Higgs dove, and Draco and Harry cackled at the sight of Draco's bald head.

Potter was catching up to the blasted thing, and he pushed harder with his Nimbus 2000, and it seemed it was going to be a Gryffindor victory when ––

WHAM!

Flint had purposefully gone barreling into Potter, causing the Nimbus to spin off course and Madame Hooch was forced to call a foul. However, in all of the confusion, the snitch managed to sneak off. Harry could see James Sr. and the other Potters crying out at the injustice, along with their family friends, the Longbottoms.

"So –– after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating ––"

"Jordan!" growled McGonagall threateningly.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul ––"

"_Jordan, I'm warning you ––"_

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue to play. Gryffindor still in possession?" It was then that the Slytherins began to play dirty, McDoul and Derrik pulling all the moves to incapacitate and possibly maim the Gryffindor Chasers, and the twin terrors were having trouble keeping up with them.

Another penalty was awarded when Flint used the Beater's bat to take out Wood, but after that, the Slytherins were on a roll, bring the score up to 170 - 30 in favor of the Slytherins.

Draco pointed to the sky, as it seemed like the newly bald Scarhead had lost control of his broom, and he turned to look expectantly at Harry.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything," said Harry, slightly annoyed. "Though I wish I'd had thought of that…" he trailed off, pondering which jinx was being used, until he finally decided it must be the bucking jinx.

Potter's rather extravagant display in the air left many Slytherins –– and some Ravenclaws –– cackling with glee, and they were highly disappointed when Potter finally gained control of his broom, though Harry suspected it had something to do with the fact that mudblood Granger had disappeared from the Gryffindor stands from a while, and was only just appearing.

And then, Potter was diving, very quickly at that, and held his hand to his mouth as if he were about to vomit, landed on all fours on the ground –– coughed –– and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion and chaos, the final score being 170 - 180.

"He didn't _catch _it, he nearly _swallowed _it!" Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference –– Scarhead hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results –– Gryffindor had won by one hundred and eighty points to one hundred and seventy. It was a very close cut match, but the Gryffindors were still taking it happily.

Scarhead heard none of this, though, because little Jamie Potter had been quickly whisked away by his mother and father to try and regrow his hair quickly, with the assistance of Madame Pomfrey.

The mood in the Slytherin House was rather somber afterwards, and the rivalry between the snakes and the lions seemed to only increase, and Harry and Draco had taken to transforming masks for their animal test subjects to wear, making them look like members of the Gryffindor House.

Christmas soon arrived, though, and with it the spirits of the Slytherins rose, as they now had a chance to return to their families in their ancestral homes, and celebrate in merriment with those of more important social standing.

The exchanging of gifts was always a chance to show off, so Draco and Harry made sure that they bought the most extravagant and expensive gifts for all of their year-mates –– though they sent Pansy's gifts reluctantly, as neither of them really liked the girl. Harry made sure to send Daphne an extra expensive gift, as he had broached the idea of a marriage contract with her to his father, who had quickly approved of the idea, and suggested Harry begin the long, tedious task of courting the young witch.

Christmas at Malfoy Manor was always an elaborate affair, with dozens of parties to attend, and the Minister's Christmas Ball, which they were the guests of honor, Minister Fudge bragging about the achievements of Draco and Harry as if they were his own children, seeing as he had none of his own, as Mrs. Fudge was unable to have children.

Harry and Draco received dozens of gifts each, from all of the higher-up pureblooded families who wished to impress the Malfoy family, and several patriarchs were surely plotting to try and snag one of the two boys in a marriage contract, as Harry was to inherit the Black family fortune, which was only a couple of thousand galleons behind the Malfoy family fortune.

The highlights, though, had been gifts from their year-mates and their Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Sev, the latter two of whom always sent the best gifts. Severus had given them each an advanced potions set, and textbooks on some of the darker, rarer potions as well as rare potions ingredients. Bellatrix had sent them trinkets from her two year long mission in America.

Zabini, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle had sent rather extravagant school supplies, such as journals, quills, inkwells, and the like, most likely on the recommendation of their parents, and Daphne had sent Harry a miniature diamond sculpture of Regulus that she'd carved herself, as the girl had much artistic talent.

Soon, though, they returned to the boring routine of life at Hogwarts.

There was a brief incident during the Gryffindor Hufflepuff match later in the year in which Lardbottom and Weasel-bee –– as Lardbottom had joined the band of misfits –– attempted to beat up the Malfoys, but Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle had stepped in, and Snape had ensure that twenty points each were deducted from Gryffindor House, as he was just as bitter at the Slytherin defeat as the students.

Weasley had landed himself in the Hospital Wing soon after the Easter holidays, and Draco had managed to pick up a tip on the fact that Potter, Lardbottom, Weasel-bee, and mudblood Granger would be delivering a dragon to Weasel-bee's elder brother, who was a dragonkeeper in Romania.

They quickly informed Professor Snape, who had crept along in the shadows of the determined meeting point –– the Astronomy Tower –– and had intercepted the transfer of the dragon, a Norwegian Ridgeback, gleefully deducting points and assigning detention to the four Gryffindors, and the House of the Lions found themselves two hundred points behind everyone else.

The weeks passed by quickly as the majority of the first years scrambled to get ready for the end-of-the year exams, and the teachers didn't help much with the stress level, assigning mountains of homework that even Harry and Draco struggled to complete on time. In Potions alone, seven children had broken down, and fifteen more cauldrons had either disintegrated or exploded, and Uncle Sev was at his wit's end.

There had been yet _another _fiasco involving Scarhead, Weasel-bee, Lardbottom, and mudblood Granger towards the end of the year, in which they had apparently broken into the forbidden third floor corridor and found whatever had been hidden there, and had, apparently 'rescued' it from dark forces.

The Malfoy brothers knew differently, however, as their father had sent them a letter informing them that the Philosopher's stone Scarhead had seized was a fake, and the Dark Lord was in possession of the real stone. The fact that Quirrell was dead wasn't a great shock to the boys, as they knew he was a weak wizard, and easily replaceable.

The end of the year exams went swimmingly, and at the end of the year feast, Dumbledore awarded Gryffindor with another two hundred points for miscellaneous reasons, but Slytherin had still managed to pull ahead by ten points, which was rather ironic considering the results of the first Quidditch match of the year.

The Malfoy brothers said farewell to their dorm-mates at the end of the train ride home, and quickly made their way over to their waiting parents, who wasted no time in apparating the two back to Malfoy Manor, where they would continue their summer training.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: In the Summer of '82**

The first week of the Summer holidays, the boys were allowed to relax, something they hadn't been able to do since Christmas, and just be boys for a while. They spent time swimming in the Malfoy lake, and Draco did his rounds in the magical creature miniature zoo that the Malfoys owned, and Caelum and Regulus happily roamed the grounds, Regulus getting a chance to spread his wings after a long period of not using them.

At the end of the week of rejuvenation, the boys got a rather unconventional surprise.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

"Are we expecting company?" asked Draco, looking up at Harry in confusion.

"Not that I know of… LIPSY!" the Head Elf of the Malfoy estate popped into the room.

"Yes, young Master Harrison?"

"Could you please open the door for our guest?" asked Harry. "If they are hostile, subdue them and put them in the dungeons, though, please."

"Right away, young Master Harrison, sir." Lipsy popped away, and they heard the door opening, and a mad cackling laugh that good only belong to ––

"BOYS! AUNTIE BELLATRIX IS HOME!" The two exchanged gleeful smiles and quickly made their way down from the Solar to the entrance hall, riding down the banister of the spiral staircase.

"Auntie Bellatrix!" said Harry happily as the woman pulled the two boys into a hug. "We've missed you!"

"How was your two year mission in America?" asked Draco eagerly, and Bellatrix scoffed.

"Those Americans, quite the uppity bunch, they are. Always think they're better than everyone else, but they were so taken with what they called 'my accent', they spoke in such a strange, demeaning way…"

"Bella!" called Narcissa as she and Lucius entered the Entrance Hall. "We weren't expecting you until later."

"You know international portkeys, Cissy," said Bellatrix, abandoning the boys in favor of embracing her sister. "Always forgetting to factor in the time difference… how have you and Lucius been?"

"Extraordinary," supplied Lucius smoothly. "The boys here have advanced greatly in their studies, and were sure to maintain a firm grasp on their remedial Hogwarts studies as well. Top of their year, the two of them."

"We made sure to show the know-it-all mudblood Granger who the best _really _were," said Draco proudly, puffing up his chest. "She was a real ––"

"Language, Draco, really," chided Bellatrix before the words could leave his mouth. "Even if she _is _filth, we should not dirty our mouths because of it… that would be similar to sinking to their level." Bellatrix had narrowly escaped Azkaban for an attempted break-in at the Longbottom ancestral home, but Lucius had called in a few favors, and she had been one of the main tutors the boys had had when they were younger.

Narcissa sometimes wondered if it was the boys that kept her sister from succumbing to the madness that power under the Dark Lord could bring, but she needn't worry about it now, in any case. Though the blood-traitors might consider Bellatrix mad, in the terms of Dark witches and wizards Bellatrix was perfectly normal.

"Will you be teaching us this summer?" asked Draco excitedly.

"The last thing you worked on with us was the beginnings of Legilimency and Occlumency, which we've been practicing," continued Harry. "We haven't mastered it, year, but as you said, it takes _years."_

"Will you teach us how to do the shadowy flying thing that the Dark Lord's inner circle can do?" enquired Draco, bouncing on his toes. "You _promised _that you would when you came back!"

"Boys, boys," laughed Bellatrix, calming the two down. "Yes, we will be working on flying, and we will continue with your studies on Legilimency and Occlumency, and the meditation with the latter will reveal your animagus forms, so you'll have to do some studying on the species you find you will transform into."

"When do we start?" asked the two in sync. A coy smile crossed Bellatrix's lips.

"Well, I _will _need you to prove yourselves… so… first thing tomorrow morning."

As it turned out, their aunt's idea of 'proving themselves' was participating in a game that Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters often participated in, called muggle hunting. The rules were simple. You had an hour to bait a muggle, bring them to the dungeons of someone's home, and torture them as much as possible until they died.

Of course, the boys saw nothing wrong with this, as they had been raised to treat muggles like rabid dogs that needed to be put down.

"Alright, boys," said Bellatrix, handing them each a portkey that led directly to the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor. "I expect you back in no longer than an hour. I will not interfere, simply observe."

Harry and Draco nodded before they had Dobby and Jinky apparate them to the muggle city nearby. Harry and Draco spent a moment roughing themselves up, using cutting charms to make their clothing look tattered, and smearing each other with dirt and grime. It was disgusting, but necessary.

Soon a woman was passing the alley they were in, and they began whimpering pitifully. She turned, looking rather smart in a pencil skirt and white blouse, she was about to go to a job interview, it seemed.

"Oh, you poor things," she cooed, helping the two of them to their feet. "What happened to you."

"B-b-bullies," stuttered Harry, using his rather phenomenal acting skills to pull off the appearance of a victim.

"They ambushed us," Draco added, doing his best to sound snivelling and weak. He just thought of Lardbottom and the act sort of fell into place.

"I have to get going, soon, but I can hail a cab."

"That won't be necessary," said Harry, before he raised his wand at her. "_Petrificus totalus!"_

_ "Silencio!" _Draco added, and the bound, silenced woman looked up at the boys fearfully.

"Activate," Harry whispered to the Portkey, before it whisked himself, Draco, and the filth back to the dungeons of their ancestral home.

"_Veneno aculeo_!" yelled Draco with a complicated twist of his wand, causing the muggle to scream out in pain –– as Harry had removed the silencing charm.

"What are you––" her questions were cut off by another scream escaping her lips, the more lethal stinging hex Draco had sent at her hitting its full effects.

"_Fractionem ossibus!" _said Harry, twirling his wand in an infinity symbol, and the filth screamed once more as the bone breaking curse shattered the majority of the bones in her body.

"_Diffindo!" _yelled Draco, and the woman found herself without clothing, writhing on the ground. "_Segmentum!" _He seemed to draw with his wand as invisible knives cut through her skin, forming a rather crude M for muggle on her back.

"_Crucio!" _yelled Harry, trying his hand at one of the three Unforgivable curses, and he gave a pleased little smirk when the woman began caterwauling in extreme pain, flopping around on the ground like a worm.

"_Tellus iam vivam_," said Draco, in order to make sure the woman remained alive to experience the pain of the next several spells.

"_Expulsis aruspices!" _yelled Harry, and the woman screamed as her entrails clawed their way out of her body, wrapping around her neck like a noose.

"_Sanguinem obstiterit!" _the blood-curdling curse Draco and Harry had been working to perfect worked flawlessly, the woman's screams getting louder and louder as her throat became raw with the effort.

"_Decorticare cutis_," said Draco emotionlessly, and the brothers watched in morbid fascination as the woman's peeled off of her body. A twinge of emotion made its way through Harry, and he decided that the filth had suffered enough.

"_Avada kedavra." _It was a rather simple spell, really. All one needed was the hatred of the victim and the _want _to kill said victim.

Clapping was heard from behind them, and the boys turned to see their aunt smiling at them, her brown eyes gleaming madly.

"Well done, you two," she said, cackling. "Rest for the day. Tomorrow, our training intensifies."

True to her word, Bellatrix was heaping workload upon workload onto the two boys, not even twelve yet, as they delved deeper into the Dark Arts, but she also had them analyzing Light Magic, to see what they would be combating.

The schedule was as follows.

At six o'clock, the boys would wake up and go for their morning run around the grounds, as Bellatrix had informed them that they needed to be physically, magically, and mentally healthy in order to ensure maximum strength. She even had them sparring without magic, in case of an obscure situation in which they were wandless. After their run and physical training, the boys would come inside, shower quickly, and eat a quick breakfast.

This was completed at around ten o'clock, and this was when the boys began meditating to compile their mental barriers and fortresses, as Occlumency needed to be mastered before their Legilimency could be improved past the basic surface scans.

Harry's mental landscape was a map of the Manor, warded heavily, and memories were stored in different objects throughout the small castle, organized neatly and well guarded by several mental opponents he'd placed.

Draco's mental landscape was their vault at Gringotts, guarded by the large Ukrainian Ironbelly that resided there, and his memories were stored in galleons, sickles, and knuts, as well as family jewels and heirlooms. He spent much time organizing everything, as he was somewhat of a neat-freak, but that was to be expected, as the higher aristocracy were mainly perfectionists.

Occlumency was an important art for all pureblood heirs to learn at a young age, as they had the family secrets that need to remain, well… a secret. There were always those who preyed on the minds of the younger purebloods, hoping to catch them unawares and drag up blackmail material that they could use to gain a higher political standing –– which meant that the art was especially important for the Malfoy brothers to learn, as they were already in league with the Dark Lord and had committed several crimes in their not even twelve years of life.

It was often frustrating to try and keep their aunt out of their mental landscapes, as she was a ruthless and highly cunning Master Legilimens _and _a Master Occlumance, though their Uncle Sev was further gifted in the art of Occlumency, which both boys knew annoyed their aunt to no end.

Meditation ended at one o'clock, when the two boys would join their family for lunch in the Dining Hall. It was then that they would discuss their progress, and their Aunt Bellatrix would praise them greatly, it was quite the ego-booster for the boys.

Their birthdays came and went –– as Draco had been born the 5th of June, and Harry the 31st –– and their training only kept intensifying.

They'd finally managed to master occlumency –– of course, they were nowhere _near _the skill of their Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Sev –– and they'd been able to trigger the meditative trance that allowed them to find their animagus forms.

_Harry was in a jungle, he could tell. The trees were thick and tall, and there were vines and many different types of magical plants that he'd never seen before. It looked to be a very remote place, as it seemed there was no civilization anywhere near, all there was was Harry and his surroundings._

_ A chittering sound grabbed his attention, and he turned over and saw a rather cute monkey –– its structure similar to that of a white faced capuchin monkey –– with long, silky silver fur and bright, intelligent grey eyes, hanging from the vines from his long tail._

_ It chittered at him again, turning invisible before reappearing, chittering happily and making hand gestures towards Harry, before it finally sprung up and jumped onto his shoulder, climbing all over him. He looked into his eyes, looking deep into his eyes, hanging upside-down from Harry's head._

_ "You are worthy," said the demiguise, before flipping backwards, landing on the ground, and pushing his body through Harry's, the two of them becoming one. _

Harry pulled out of the trance with a start, his Aunt Bellatrix and Draco looking at him expectantly.

"Well?" asked Bellatrix. "What was it?"

"A demiguise," said Harry breathlessly, and Bellatrix practically cooed with joy.

"A magical creature, how wonderful! Draco is one as well, an albino grim, with the capabilities of turning on the quote-on-quote 'Death-gaze' as well."

"Isn't Sirius no-name's form a grim?" asked Harry, and Bellatrix scrunched up her nose in disgust.

"No, my filthy blood-traitor cousin's animagus is no grim," she said haughtily. "It's a mere Irish Greyhound, with resemblance to a grim, but it has none of the magical properties of a grim." Harry and Draco nodded; Draco pleased that he didn't have to share his animagus form with anyone else.

"You two will need to spend time researching your destined animagi, of course," tittered Bellatrix, beaming at the two boys, pride clear in her brown eyes. She pushed her wildly curly hair out of her eyes and motioned for the two boys to go to the Malfoy family Library and start their research.

They started with the very basics: _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_.

"The demiguise is a peaceful, herbivorous creature that can make itself invisible," read Harry. "It is found in the Far East, but only wizards and witches trained in their capture can even see them. It resembles a different species of monkey depending on the person it deems worthy to find it –– almost like a familiar bond, but different."

"Though the forms of the monkey-like creature vary, the common factor is large, black or silver eyes, and long, silky hair. Demiguise pelts are highly sought after as the hair can be woven into Invisibility cloaks. Cloaks made from their hair eventually turn opaque, losing their invisibility effects as time passes. The demiguise's ability to make itself invisible is used to symbolise the number zero, in the runic alphabet."

"The grim is an omen of death," began Draco. "-which is reputed to bring about the demise of the person who encounters it. The grim takes the shape of a large, black or albino, spectral dog. Perhaps the most well-known of omens, the Grim has earned infamy throughout the Wizarding world and is considered to be one of the worst, if not he worst, omens around. The grim takes on the form of a jet-black or bleach-white dog of giant, bear-like size, and is pertained to be spectral. It has a pair of yellow or silver eyes that can gleam in an ominous way."

The two brothers looked at each other and shrugged.

"Well," said Harry. "It wasn't much, but I suppose it's as good a place to start as any."

"Here," said Draco, tossing Harry a copy of '_Anatomy of Rare Magical Creatures'_. "Let's read this, get a better gist of what we're delving into."

Harry flipped quickly to the page on demi guises, and he was extremely pleased when he saw the image in the book alter to that of the demiguise he'd seen in his meditative trance. Two weeks were spent researching on their chosen animals, and Bellatrix said they would be ready to begin transforming themselves, but to cease the animagus work for the two remaining weeks of summer –– after all, there were still many other things for them to work on.

"Alright, boys," said Bellatrix after they'd had their midday meal. "In order to be able to participate in this 'shadow flight' as you two refer to it, there need to be two things to be done. One, the slaughtering of a muggle, which you two completed rather wonderfully earlier this summer. Two, you need to be in the presence of a Dark Mark, which I will provide, and third, you need to perform two spells."

"The first is '_fugambrata'_, while moving your arm in a check mark, which will allow the process to occur. The second is '_continerintuum'_, which allows one to control the flight, and makes both the first and second spells permanent. The wand movement for that is simply an upside-down arc, like a frown."

The boys nodded eagerly, and Bellatrix pulled up her left sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark. "_Fugambrata!"_

"_Continerintuum!" _A black mist seemed to seep over the skin of both boys before their pale bodies soaked it up like a sponge, and Bellatrix smiled at them eerily.

"Well done, you two. That was the easy part. The hard part is actually learning how to fly." She paused, and looked them both in the eyes. "This is very serious, you know. When you fly, you will still be able to feel things you run into, which makes it easier to destroy things, unless you go completely transparent, which takes much more practice, and then you can glide through things, much like a ghost."

"Much like flying a broom, the shadowy form you will be in during flight will respond to the will of your magic, but can be difficult to control if one has rampant emotions, which is why you had to learn Occlumency first. You _can _perform magic when in the more corporal form, though it is more difficult, as you have to focus your core on both flight and casting spells simultaneously, which is when accidents can occur. I expect the two of you _will not _attempt such a feat until you have practiced sufficiently."

"Now, then," she continued with a small smile –– which would unnerve most people, but, to her nephews, it was perfectly normal. "In order to begin flight, you must simply turn sharply on your heel, much like you would for apparation –– which we will _not _be covering until you are at _least _fourteen, so don't get any ideas, you two –– and you focus on the image of smoke in your mind, and mutter the word: umbra. You're magic will recognize the word and trigger the desired effect."

"Ready?"

The boys, each eager to try, both pictured smoke rising from a flame in their minds, turned sharply on their heels, and repeated.

"Umbra."

Bellatrix had chosen the Casemate for the boys to practice in, as it had sturdy walls and plenty of space, and didn't contain highly breakable things that Cissy'd have her neck for destroying. And it seemed to be a good choice, too, as the boys spent a good half an hour trying to control their flight, stumbling around and running into walls –– and each other –– and had almost knocked over their aunt on several occasions.

Bellatrix had solved the issue by casting a plethora of 'spongify' charms on the walls, floors, and just about everything in the Casemate of Malfoy Manor. After about an hour of practice, the boys finally touched down to Earth, boy with wild hair and face-cracking grins, happy that they'd finally achieved something that they'd been waiting _years _for, and boy, had it been worth the wait.

"That was wicked!" said Harry, bouncing up and down in a rare show of childishness, as the heirs of prominent families were expected to hold themselves with only the highest decorum.

"Absolutely brilliant!" Draco agreed, nodding freverantly.

Bellatrix simply laughed, and shooed the boys to the Great Chamber, where they bombarded their parents' personal space, twittering on about what their Auntie Bellatrix had just taught them, and Cissy sent Bella a rather scathing look for unleashing the inner child within the two boys, which almost never made an appearance, though Bella knew that Cissy secretly enjoyed it.

"If the two of you don't calm down," said Lucius, his demeanor finally cracking. "I won't show you the surprise I have ready." The two boys calmed down immediately.

"Surprise?" asked Harry.

"What surprise?" continued Draco, and Lucius grinned.

"Well, it wouldn't be a surprise if you knew about it, now would it? Lipsy!" The house elf appeared, clutching seven long packages in her arms, and the boys stood, gaping at the sleek, pristine broomsticks in front of them, the tip of the wood inscribed in emerald, _'The Dragonrider'_.

"But Father," said Harry in awe. "How did you get them?"

"They weren't supposed to be available for the public for five more years!" added Draco.

"A small fortune, these must of cost. Not like we couldn't afford it, but still, at three thousand galleons a broom… not even the Potters, Quidditch fanatics they are, would spend this sort of money!"

"The critics say it's better than all the Nimbuses, Cleansweeps, and the newly developed Firebolts combined!" exclaimed Draco gleefully, grabbing the broom that had the inscribing 'Draco Malfoy: Beater', as it was one of the specially modified Beater brooms.

Harry grabbed his, inscribed 'Harrison Malfoy: Beater', and the others were just inscribed with positions, and names would appear when they were handed out to the rest of the Slytherin team.

"I _did _promise you that I would get you two on the team this year," said Lucius, tossing them matching Beaters bats, composed of only the finest mahogany, black walnut, and silver lime, like the brooms themselves.

"Wait until Potter sees _these_!" cackled Harry.

"Wood will have a heart attack!" crowed Draco, and Harry sniggered.

"So will Flint," added Draco. "All of the Slytherin team, in fact. These are the top-of-the line, predicted to be the broomstick of the century thus far!"

"Nothing can top this!" said Harry, stroking his broom almost lovingly, and Lucius cleared his throat.

"Are you just going to stare at them, or are you going to go practice?" The boys let out excited yelps, and quickly made their way outside to the Quidditch pitch. The three adults exchanged smiles, and Lucius shook his head fondly.

"It's nice to see them act their age every once in a while," said Narcissa softly, leaning into the warm embrace of her husband.

"They've always been so mature," added Bellatrix. "You two have done a good job raising them… seeing them almost makes me want to have children of my own."

"But we all know that it isn't Rodolphus that holds your heart," said Lucius, and Bellatrix nodded, rather downcast.

"The Dark Lord has better things to worry about than the foolish desires of his followers," she said morosely, and Narcissa pulled her sister into a hug.

"All in time, Bella, all in time."

Outside of the Manor walls, away from the serious talk of the adults, Harry and Draco were acting like children walking into Honeydukes for the first time. Loop-the-loops and daring aerial stunts were pulled, neither of them concerned with falling, as they'd been flying soon after they'd learned to walk.

"This is amazing!" laughed Harry as he shot the practice Bludger they owned back at Draco, as the two were hitting it back and forth in-between dodging and tricky moves up in the air. Harry'd pulled a hundred foot dive and then whammed the Bludger chasing him back up at his brother, who had almost gotten hit.

"I know!" Draco shouted back, firing a powerful shot, sending the Bludger hurtling back at Harry.

The two boys spent a good four hours just romping around and being twelve-year-olds, for once, before they returned to the Dining Hall for dinner, their uncles Rodolphus and Rabastan joining them for the night, as well as their Uncle Severus, who was prepping them for another year at Hogwarts.

Two weeks later, the boys were all packed and ready to go back to Hogwarts, Caelum prowling proudly at Draco's side, having grown to the size of a bobcat, and Regulus flying high above the scarlet Hogwarts' Express.

Both were prepared for the challenges that would be presented to them this year, as their father had briefly outlined the plan during their trip to Diagon Alley, though they didn't know how _large _this challenge would be.

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**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoy the updates! I think I'll post 1-4 chapters weekly once I complete them, as it is the summer holidays and I have nothing to do except read and write. Thanks for all the follows and favorites, and special thanks to ulquiorra31 and the guest automgold for reviewing! You two get Dragonriders!****  
**

**_Accio reviews!_**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Back to School, Baby!**

"Be sure to write," said Narcissa sternly, once again grasping her two children in tight embraces before taking a step back to look at them. Already they'd changed simply from the months of summer vacation. Both boys had lost some of the paleness of their skin, it was now more of a caramelized white than the sickly pale white it had been previously, as a result of all the physical training on the grounds of the Manor, where the sun shone brightly.

"You two have done very well this summer," said Bellatrix, ruffling their hair, and chuckled as Draco let out cries of indignation, while Harry simply used his metamorphmagus powers to tidy up his soft blond locks.

"_May I stretch my wings for the journey, Master?" _asked Regulus from where he was curled up underneath Harry's robes. "_I intend to make the journey myself, following above the engine."_

_ "Alright," _Harry hissed back. "_But be safe."_

_ "I always am, Master," _Regulus hissed back, before slithering out of Harry's robe and flapping his wings to wait on the top of the scarlet engine to exit the tunnel.

"Take care, you two," said Lucius, hugging the two in a rare show of public affection, and then he turned to Draco.

"And make sure that little beast of yours doesn't cause any trouble." Draco looked almost affronted, a look that was mirrored by Caelum, who had now grown to the size of a small bobcat, reaching Draco's height in waist, his long, velvety russet coat gleaming.

"Don't worry, Father," ensured Harry cheekily. "I'll keep them both in line." A cry of indignation left Draco, and the two light-heartedly teased each other on their way into the Hogwart's express.

They found their usual compartment, and were joined quickly again by Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle, and began looking out of their wide window to see which families had children that would be starting Hogwarts this year.

"Half of the blood-traitor bunch has arrive," said Nott, motioning towards Alice and Frank Longbottom, who were followed by three young girls.

"It's the younger siblings of Scarhead, Lardbottom, and Weasel-bee," said Zabini snidely. "I wonder where the rest of them are."

"Probably running late, as always," said Nott. Draco and Harry peered out of the window, quickly spotting the three young blood-traitors in question. Rose "Rosie" Potter was leading them, carrying with her a trunk and a snowy owl very similar to her brother's, with long, cascading red hair and bright hazel eyes, the opposite mix of her parents than her brother, with his raven hair and emerald eyes. Then came Macy Longbottom, with a round face, kind brown eyes, and long dusty brown hair. The youngest Weasley, the first Weasley girl in centuries, was Ginny.

Like the rest of her family, she had bright red hair, freckles overwhelming her face in droves, and brown eyes –– though some of the Weasleys had blue eyes, the majority had brown. A thought seemed to cross Draco's mind, and he turned to Nott.

"Anastasia's starting this year, isn't she?"

"Yea," said Nott. "She's with the other girls in their compartment, including mini Greengrass and a few other pureblood girls." Draco nodded, looking out of the window thoughtfully.

"Look!" said Harry, pointing out of the window. The elder Potters and rest of the Weasley clan had arrived, and were hugging their daughters, ready to send them off, but Scarhead, Weasel-bee, and Lardbottom were suspiciously missing.

"Do you think they died?" asked Draco hopefully. Harry was frowning, looking out of the window really hard, and Draco looked puzzled.

"Lipsy!" Harry called, and the rather abused personal elf of Lucius Malfoy appeared, looking nervous.

"Young Master Harrison be calling Lipsy?" asked the nervous house elf, who began to ring his hands.

"Were you on the platform just now?" asked Harry harshly, and the other boys watched in astonishment as Lipsy nodded his head nervously.

"I demand you to tell me what you were doing," continued Harry, and tears began to stream out of the big, bulbous eyes of the house elf.

"Lipsy was trying to keep young Mr. Jamie Potter sir out of Hogwarts, because of the bad things Lipsy heard Master talking about. Lipsy doesn't want Jamie Potter sir being in danger." A cold look passed Harry's face.

"You may continue to try and keep Jamie Potter out of Hogwarts," the poor elf looked so hopeful. "But you may not tell him who your masters are, what family you belong to, or even _why _you're trying to keep him out of Hogwarts. That is a direct order, am I understood?"

"Yes, young Master Harrison, sir," sobbed Lipsy. "You is so kind." Harry simply nodded and motioned for him to leave.

"Why'd you let him off?" asked Draco once the whole ordeal was over, and a wicked grin crossed Harry's face.

"Because," he said simply. "Lipsy will continue to try and keep Potter out of Hogwarts, which will only make Potter more adamant that he should stay, which makes our job that much easier." An impressed look passed Draco's face, and he nodded.

"Good plan, Harry, as always." The other boys in the compartment looked confused, but didn't ask, as they assumed it was family business, and no one was dumb enough to meddle in the affairs of the Malfoys.

The train then began to move forward, and there was the usual riot of children calling out to their parents and waving. For the first hour of the train ride, the boys amused themselves by playing Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess, and then the trolley lady, an elderly pureblood named Lisette Copperstone –– who was to be respected, as she had been the wife of one of Grindelwald's top lieutenants –– came around, and the boys wasted no time buying large assortments of sweets.

"Dobby!" called Harry, and the elf popped up in the train.

"Yes, Master Harrison?"

"Can you bring back a clear glass bowl, please?"

"Yes, young Master Harrison." The other boys looked at him in confusion, but Harry put the bowl Dobby had brought on the center table and dumped the contents of two packages of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans inside.

"I propose," began Harry. "That we all go around in a circle blindly picking one bean and telling everyone else what flavor it is… that is, unless you're too scared." Not even Crabbe or Goyle would back down from _this _sort of challenge.

Draco, ever the peacock, began, putting his hand within the bowl and pulling out a pale pink bean. He sighed in relief once he chewed it thoughtfully.

"Candy floss." Harry was next, and he pulled out a brown bean with darker brown spots and ate it confidently.

"Potato," he said after a while. "Not bad." Nott came next, and he got a lettuce bean, and Zabini got off easy with an icing flavored bean. Crabbe got liquorice and Goyle got chicken. And the taste testing continued until there were no more beans left in the bowl. Tripe, liver, chocolate, pudding, cake, bogey, earwax, toffee, caramel, blood, pepper, toast, soup, tomato, cheese, marshmallow, and so on and so forth. It was a fun time, especially when anyone got a bean that tasted awful, as their facial expressions were hilarious.

"I heard laughter," said Daphne as she casually opened the door to their compartment after the bean-eating had finished. "What did I miss?" Harry paused and took a moment to take in the sight of Daphne –– who he not-so-secretly fancied –– she had pale, aristocratic features, and long blond hair and bright emerald eyes. Quite beautiful, in Harry's opinion.

"We were eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor beans," supplied Nott helpfully, and the kind hearted boy sent Daphne a small smile, which made Harry's blood boil, even though he knew that Theodore was not, in any way, interested in Daphne. All of the Slytherins –- even the upper years –– knew that Daphne Greengrass was being considered for a marriage contract within the Malfoy family, so they steered clear of her.

"Ah," said Daphne, smirking slightly at them, her Slytherin Ice Princess facade cracking a bit as she let herself go in the company of friends. "I see, and who was the one who received the most horrid flavors?"

"Zabini had the worst luck," Harry informed her with a smile.

"I see," responded Daphne, laughter evident in her eyes. "And how about _you_, Harrison?"

"I guess I'm just lucky," he responded cheekily, and Daphne smiled.

"We'll see about that." Just then, a smaller version of Daphne, albeit with dark hair and blue eyes, appeared next to her sister.

"Daphne, Pansy's asking after you," she said. "As is Tracey… they say they don't want to be left alone with Bulstrode the older and the younger."

_What? _Draco projected into Harry's mind.

_Melinda Bulstrode is an incoming first year this year, _Harry sent back. _As well as Tracey Davis' younger brother Tucker… and Anastasia, of course, but I can't remember the others…_

"Well, then, best not keep them waiting," said Daphne, before turning and smiling at Harry. "I'll see you later, Harrison." Nott and Zabini turned to Harry, looking impressed.

"Daphne Greengrass was just flirting with you," said Blaise, his mouth opened slightly.

"Thank you for the astute observation, Zabini, but I should inform you to close your mouth before you catch flies," deadpanned Harry. "And I wouldn't exactly call it flirting. After all, we _are _only twelve years old. Father sent Dalton Greengrass a formal request for a marriage contract between Daphne and I, and the Greengrass family accepted. Now I need only court her."

"A marriage contract already?" asked Nott, surprise evident in his tone of voice.

"Well, it had to happen sooner or later," said Harry. "I just spared my parents the horror of the rush to find one before I turn seventeen, as the older an heir gets, the less potential wives are available."

"Who've you got in mind, Draco?" asked Nott, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well," drawled Draco, masking his uneasiness. "I suppose I could live with Davis, but your sister would make a much more lovely match, staying in the sacred twenty-eight." Nott looked over him, and shrugged.

"I suppose it wouldn't be horrible for Anastasia to be married to you," he said, finally. "Rather you than some ghastly old coot I know not of." Draco nodded, satisfied, and turned to Blaise.

"Mother says that I should marry into the sacred twenty-eight," he said finally. "Maybe Celeste Fawley, she's a Ravenclaw in our year." Draco, Harry, and Nott all saw the logic in that choice, and Crabbe and Goyle just shrugged and grunted, as per usual. They weren't really ones to talk, ever. It wasn't really much of a shock, seeing as both of their fathers had lost the ability to speak in the previous war, when one muggle supremacist had cut out their vocal chords, so the Crabbes and Goyles frequently used sign language.

"I know it's a long way off, but have any of you considered names for potential children?" asked Blaise suddenly. "I know there are pureblood traditions, but I don't know."

"Well," began Harry. "Once I turn sixteen I will take on the mantel of Lord Black, so my name will be Harrison Malfoy-Black, formally, though I'll be addressed as Lord Black, and the Black's have a tendency to name their children after stars… I was thinking Samson for a male heir, as it means 'sun' rather than 'star'."

"Scorpius," said Draco. "I am half Black, too, you know."

"Tristan, maybe," said Nott.

"Maybe Rafael…" said Zabini, trailing off, and the boys fell into a comfortable silence.

The train ride continued on without much excitement, until Caelum had decided his nap underneath the bench Draco and Harry were on, and stretched outwards, nearly giving Nott a heart attack, as he hadn't realized how large the feline had grown in the past year, as Caelum had always been either in Draco's room, or prowling with Regulus in the Forbidden Forest.

They soon arrived at the Hogsmeade station, and the oaf of a Gamekeeper could be heard, once more, above the chatter of all the others, calling for the first years to follow him. The second year Slytherins made their way to the thestral-drawn carriages, and all twelve of them occupied one.

Harry made idle conversation with them, sitting between Draco and Daphne, as they made their way up towards the castle. Daphne would surely understand the precarious position that Harry and Draco were in, already training to be lieutenants under the Dark Lord's reign of power. After all, her father, Dalton Greengrass, was a Death Eater himself. Albeit, he didn't have the Dark Mart, but that was because he was a spy within the Ministry of Magic and the Board of Governors, so he couldn't have the mark, as it would have given him away.

The chatter passed the time quickly, and before they knew it, the Slytherins had made their way through the front gates of Hogwarts and up towards the main entrance that led to the Entrance Hall. Students exited the carriages, all catching up, and the loud ensemble of children made their way into Hogwarts, getting situated in the Great Hall for their evening meal and the Sorting Ceremony.

McGonagall led the first years into the Hall soon after that, and placed the Sorting Hat on the stool, where it then began to sing, talking about the core traits of all four houses, and all-in-all, the song was very similar to that of _their _Sorting Song.

"Bulstrode, Margaret!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Creevey, Colin!" called McGonagall, and the boy anxiously walked up to the Sorting Hat, no doubt a mudblood.

"GRYFFINDOR!" After that, the boys only really tuned in to the names that were of importance to them.

"Davis, Tucker!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Greengrass, Astoria."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Longbottom, Macy."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Nott, Anastasia."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Potter, Rosalie." Here, there were mutters about the younger sister of the Boy-Who-Lived, much like there had been whispers during her brother's Sorting.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat cried out, which surprised Harry and Draco both.

_I was sure she was going to be in Gryffindor, _thought Draco.

_I know, _Harry sent back. _I suppose she'll be smarter than her dumbass of a brother, though, that'll come in handy for her._

_ I suppose._

"Weasley, Ginevra." Red-haired and freckled Ginny Weasley walked up to the stool nervously, and Harry smirked at seeing that the effects of the artefact his father had bestowed on her were already taking hold.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Not a surprise there, but all the Weasley brothers present erupted in cheers, as Scarhead, Weasel-bee, and Lardbottom _still _hadn't showed up. Once more, Albus Dumbledore provided several 'words of wisdom' for his pupils, before allowing them to commence in the grand feast that was the back-to-school banquet.

Halfway through the meal, though, there was a loud _crash! _that resounded from the outside grounds, and the Headmaster quickly rushed to see what was going on, and he came back quickly, Madame Pomfrey following. Regulus soared through the opened doors and landed next to his Master.

"_The scar child, the rodent, and the weakling have crashed some sort of odd, flying car into the Whomping Willow," _Regulus informed him dutifully, and Harry quickly relayed the story to his friends, crossing his finger and hoping that Scarhead would be expelled.

"Oh, I hope Uncle Sev got his hands on the trio of dufuses," cackled Harry, rubbing his hands together in a rather stereotypical bad-guy gesture, though, in his opinion, he was the good guy.

"He'd _pummel _them!" Draco continued gleefully. "Oh, my heart sings at the very thought."

"Don't hurt yourself," said Daphne with a coy smile and a smirk, motioning between the two brothers, and Draco's ears turned pink.

_Harry, nevermind. I take it back. You shouldn't marry Daphne._

_ Too bad, _Harry projected back. _It's already been set up._

_ Little knucklehead._

_ Pompous ferret._

The two brothers shared a smile, and Daphne just smiled into her meal, wondering just how strong a bond between two people had to be in order for them to communicate so effortlessly without even speaking.

"Do you think Potter will get expelled?" asked Zabini, one pale eyebrow raised on the Italian boy's face.

"One can only hope," Draco replied.

The next morning, the sextuplet of Slytherin boys entered the Great Hall for the morning meal with a groan, as the trio of Gryffindor second year wanna-be boys could clearly be seen eating ravenously at the Gryffindor table.

"How'd Potter manage to wiggle his way through _that!" _barked Harry incredulously, pointing at the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, where one could clearly see a magical car flying through the air, and there had been muggles there to see what had happened! Muggles! That was a clear violation of the Statute of Secrecy!

Halfway through the meal, though, entertainment began to arrive in small doses. The first came with the arrival of a rather battered, worse-for-wear looking great horned owl, who managed to crash into the Gryffindor table, as opposed to Zeus' smooth landings, scattering food everywhere, and holding a scarlet letter tightly in his beak.

"Look!" jeered Harry, capturing the attention of the rest of the Slytherins. "Weasley's got a Howler!"

The students waited eagerly, and, several moments later, the Howler exploded open, and a voice on par with that of a banshee shook the Great Hall.

"_–– STEALING THE CAR. I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU. I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE ––_" The Weasley matriarch's yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the Gryffindor table, and echoed deafeningly off of the stone walls. People throughout the hall were swinging around to see who had received the Howler, and Weasel-bee sat so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.

"_–– LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU, JAMIE, AND NEVILLE COULD HAVE ALL DIED ––" _Harry had been wondering when the two cohorts would have been brought up, and a strange smile crossed his face when he realized that the other two would most likely receive Howlers as well.

_"–– ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED –– YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT. AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME!." _The Howler seemed to have finally reached its end, and ripped itself apart, and Weasel-bee quickly fled from the Great Hall, knowing the fate of his two friends.

The next owl that landed with a scarlet letter in its beak was a tawny, Lily Potter's faithful owl, Todo. Jamie Potter begrudgingly opened the letter, resigning himself to his face.

_ "JAMES CHRISTOPHER POTTER!" _if possible, Lily Potter's voice was even louder than that of Molly Weasley's, and the Slytherins were already chortling heavily, finding comfort in the despair of the Gryffindorks. "_–– I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE GOING ON WHEN WE CAME OUT AND SAW THE THREE OF YOU MISSING! WE WERE ALL IN A RIGHT STATE! HOW STUPID COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE, THINKING IT WOULD BE TO DRIVE A FLYING CAR THROUGH A MUGGLE BUSY AREA? I THOUGHT I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THAT!"_

_ "AND YOU MADE THE FRONT PAGE, TOO! I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY WITH THE DISHONOR YOU'VE BROUGHT UPON YOUR FAMILY, YOUNG MAN. WE WERE ALREADY GRASPING AT STRAWS WITH THE MINISTER, AND NOW THIS!? HONESTLY, YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED! IF I HEAR ONE MORE WORD OF YOU BEING TROUBLE TO __ANY __OF THE PROFESSORS AT HOGWARTS, I'LL TAKE AWAY YOUR BROOM!" _A pause. "_AND THAT BLOODY CLOAK OF YOURS!"_

Harry smiled when he looked to the Ravenclaw table and saw Rosie Potter sniggering at her brother's current position. Apparently she thought he needed to be knocked down a peg or two as well.

The last letter was by far the worst, as there were legends of the eldest Longbottom, Augusta's, fury, and of how it had made several people go deaf. Jonathan Carrow did the Slytherins a favor in conjuring up earmuffs in order to block out the majority of the noise.

"_NEVILLE FRANKLIN LONGBOTTOM! IN ALL OF MY YEARS, THERE HAS NEVER BEEN SUCH A DISGRACE ON THE LONGBOTTOM FAMILY! YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER WERE IN A RIGHT STATE! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED, YOUNG MAN, THOROUGHLY ASHAMED! POOR MR. WEASLEY IS FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK BECAUSE OF THE LAPSE OF JUDGEMENT AND UTTER STUPIDITY OF YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS!"_

_ "HONESTLY! YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BECOME SOME GALLIVANTING CRIMINAL! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY MUGGLES HAD TO BE OBLIVIATED! YOU THREE COULD HAVE RISKED EXPOSING OUR WORLD TO THE MUGGLES! SUCH DISHONOR!"_

_ "YOU BETTER CLEAN UP YOUR ACT, YOUNG MAN, OR ELSE… AND DON'T ASK 'WHAT ELSE', BECAUSE, TRUST ME, YOU DO NOT WANT TO KNOW OF THE HORRORS I CAN UNLEASH UPON YOU!" _The last Howler finished up its rant, and Lardbottom was a snivelling mess by the end of it.

"I bet he wet his trousers," said Draco snidely to Harry, who scoffed at him.

"Please, Draco, I do not engage in bets that are on common knowledge, I don't wish to throw my money away… even if I have enough to throw away." Draco chuckled.

"Better them than us, right?"

"Of course."

After the first Slytherin class of the day, Charms, Draco, Harry, and the rest of the second-year Slytherin boys were walking through the courtyard, when they saw a rather eager-looking first year Gryffindor with a camera talking to Jamie, and they managed to catch the end.

"––maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

"_Signed photos?" _asked Draco incredulously, sneering at Scarhead. "You're giving out _signed photos, _Potter?" Jamie turned around quickly, scowling at the Malfoy brothers and co., while Ron's ears turned pink and the mudblood, Colin Creevey, looked on in confusion.

"Everyone line up!" said Harry in a rather poor imitation of a fangirl's voice. "Jamie Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No I'm not! Shut up, Malfoy!" said Jamie angrily, before pausing. "And Malfoy!"

"Your just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"_Jealous?" _asked Harry incredulously. "Why would _we––" _here he motioned to himself and Draco. "––be jealous of _that?" _He pointed at Jamie.

"You see, young, impressionable mudblood," began Draco in a sing-song voice. "Harry and I have something Potter here doesn't."

"Like social standing, contacts with the Ministry, enough galleons to fill Hogwarts, and pure blood, to name a few," piped in Harry.

"And besides," cooed Draco, very much belittling Colin Creevey. "I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself." Zabini and Nott were doing their best to stifle their laughter behind small smiles, and Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble or your mummy'll have to come and take you away from school." Here, Harry continued in a rather shrill, piercing voice.

"_'If you put another toe out of line' ––" _A knot of Slytherin fifth years that were present nearby laughed loudly at this.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house ––" Weasel-bee made a move to pull out his Spellotaped wand, but mudblood Granger shut _Voyages with Vampires _with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"

"what's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Scarhead made to speak, but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially. "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!" Smirking, Harry and Draco pulled back into the gathered crowd of Slytherins, the others following their example as Potter shot daggers at them with his eyes.

"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll _both _sign it for you." Mudblood Creevey fumbled with his camera and took the picture as the bell rand behind them, signalling the start of afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Jamie, who looked as if he wished he knew a good Vanishing Spell, still clasped to his side.

"Did you see his face?" sniggered Harry, morphing his face into Potter's as they made their way to their second class of the day, Defense Against the Dark Arts. "He looked murderous, like he'd ever be able to one-up _us."_

"And Weasel-bee was in a right state as well," crowed Blaise, smiling at Harry and Draco. "Good job at that, you too. You think we can provoke them into getting expelled before the years out?"

"One can only dream, Zabini," said Harry morosely, changing his facial features back to the usual. "With his ties to Dumbledore, I don't think _anything _could get _him _expelled."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: The Dragonriders**

The first Defense lesson with Lockhart had been highly anticipated by many, bare the Slytherins, as they were already quite aware of the fact that he was a fraud, and more of a bumbling fool than Lardbottom, which was a very hard title to earn.

They entered the room to find Potter already there, still looking quite put out at being accosted by Lockhart, which was a point towards the fraud professor, in Harry's opinion. There was a saying that went 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', which applied in this specific situation.

"You could have fried an egg on your face," said Ron matter-of-factly to Jamie, and Harry and Draco overheard this conversation to their chosen seats directly behind the pair, Crabbe and Goyle to their left and Nott and Zabini to their left.

"You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up," snapped Scarhead, clearly not in the mood to be trifled with. The last thing he needed was to have Lockhart hear 'Harry Potter fan club'.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of _Travels with Trolls, _and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly_'s Most-Charming-Smile Award –– but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling _at her!"

He waited for them to laugh, and a few girls laughed weekly, giggling at the man they most all appeared to admire. Harry caught Daphne's eye from where she sat, across the room, and she made a wide yawning gesture, causing him to smile softly.

"I see that you've all bought a complete set of my books –– well done," said Lockhart, smiling 'charmingly' again, and Harry fought to roll his eyes.

_It's not like we had to buy his books, or anything, _Draco's snide tone resided in Harry's mind and the blond metamorphmagus had to fight hard to stifle laughter. _Honestly, the man's such a blithering idiot, like the minds of Scarhead, Weasel-bee, and Lardbottom combined!_

"––I thought we'd start today with a little quiz," Lockhart was continuing, which grabbed the attention of the children who had begun nodding off. "Nothing to worry about –– just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in ––"

When he handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes –– start –– _now!" _

Harry looked down at his paper and read:

_1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_ 2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_ 3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

On and on it went, over three sides of parchment, right down to:

_54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_ Harry and Draco exchanged scoffs, and Harry set forth to try and answer the questions as ridiculously as he possibly could.

Q: What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition? A: _That he may someday actually achieve something instead of wiping other people's memories and being the fraud he is._

Q: What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date? A: _Managing to somehow fool the Headmaster of Hogwarts into believing that he is, in any way, suitable to teach children._

On and on the questions went, and, at the end, Harry put a little note.

_Oh, and Lockhart, change a single memory in any of the Slytherins' minds, and I'll be sure to contact my father to… unveil your rather… unsavory secrets. Or, we can keep this between you and me. And do try to actually teach us something, instead of blithering around like the idiot you are._

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut –– hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in _Year with the Yeti_. And a few of you need to read _Wanderings with Werewolves _more carefully –– I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between al magic and non-magic peoples –– though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Nott and Zabini were now staring at Lockhart with looks of utter disbelief, Harry and Draco were shaking with silent laughter, but mudblood Granger, who was sitting in the front, was listening to Lockhart wiht rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

"...but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions –– good girl! In fact" –– he flipped her paper over –– "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

The mudblood raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take five points to Gryffindor! And so –– to business ––" He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now –– be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask it that you remain calm."

Draco and Harry sniggered as all of the Gryffindorks went through leaps and bounds to try and get a better look at the cage, when they knew that Lockhart couldn't even fight a bunny rabbit, even if he tried.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them." As the Gryffindorks held their breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "_Freshly caught Cornish pixies." _Draco and Harry erupted into howls of laughter, the other Slytherins soon following their lead, and not even Lockhart could mistake them for screams of terror.

"Yes?" he asked Harry, smiling.

"Oh, please, you daft, bumbling fool," spat Harry. "Saying Cornish pixies are dangerous! You're nothing but a fraud. Tell me, how would one subdue an angered hippogriff?" Lockhart sputtered for a moment, and then turned to Harry.

"Now see here––"

"You don't even know, do you," sneered Harry. "Hippogriffs are a right nasty bunch once they've been disrespected, and I would know, seeing as the Malfoys own our own herd in the Malfoy Forest. Your best bet against an angered one would be to bow low to the ground, or use a modified stunning spell against it." He turned to the rest of the class.

"I, for one, actually want a good education this year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. So, until you clean up your act, and trust me I _will _have my father bring this up with the Board of Education, I am simply not going to show up. Yet I expect full marks in this class because I am better than you."

Lockhart sputtered, and then turned red.

"Fine, then," he barked. "If those who want to leave can beat me in a duel, I will let them leave, full marks."

"Alright then," Harry snapped back. "Let's duel, you idiot."

They walked to the dueling podium that was set up near the back of the classroom, and all of the students swarmed to watch as they walked seven paces away from each other, and then bowed. Lockhart made a show of smiling charmingly at the females in the class –– which Harry found creepy and the behaviour of a pedophile –– flipping his curly golden locks to the side, his blue eyes twinkling almost unnervingly.

Harry simply rolled up the sleeves on his cloak, making sure his hair was short and out of the way, and actually shortening it about an inch, so that he ensure that no hair would be swept into his face during the duel.

"One, two –– three!" said Seamus Finnigan, and Harry began the duel.

"_Orbis!" _the Gryffindorks watched in amazement as their supposedly great teacher was sucked into the podium, and the Slytherins cheers.

"_Diffindo! Anteoculatia!" _even the Gryffindors laughed when Lockhart's prized hair turned into a pair of antlers, albeit a measly one. "_Stupefy!" _Lockhart slumped to the ground, unconscious, and Harry smiled.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Lockharts wand went flying into Harry's hand, and he smiled.

"_Rennervate," _muttered Draco, and the fraud woke up, still stuck in the podium, his head off balance from the weight of the antlers.

"Thank you for that, Professor," said Harry with a sneer. "As per the binding magical contract you agreed to when we began dueling, I am now guaranteed an 'O' in your class for the remainder of the year. Thank you very much."

"_Educam de terra," _said Draco, and the podium spat Lockhart out.

"Oh, and since my brother so kindly let you out of your little confined prison, he gets off, too." Harry tossed Lockhart's wand back to him and walked suavely out of the room, while Draco swaggered out behind him.

"Oh, and one more thing," said Harry, piling his and Draco's books together. "_Incendio!" _The class watched in morbid fascination as the books burned, and Lockhart completely lost control of his class. Only three more stepped forward to duel him, Zabini, Nott, and Daphne, and they all one, and walked out of the class to join where Harry and Draco were laughing in the Slytherin Common Room.

"That was a brilliant idea, Harry," said Daphne, smiling at him.

"I was sick of listening to his rubbish," said Harry, smiling back. "I just wanted out."

"Well, I thought it was fantastic," said Daphne, and she leaned in and gave Harry a soft peck on the cheek before standing up. "Well, I'm off to do the charms assignment, I'll see you later." Harry sat there for a moment, sputtering and touching his cheek, and the other boys present ribbed him good-naturedly.

An hour later, students began to walk back into the Common Room, and the story of Harry outwitting Lockhart spread like wildfire, and all of the older students began eagerly planning their duel with him. Harry became something of the hero of Slytherin, for a short while, and he and Draco basked in the warm rays of their praise.

Uncle Sev came in the Common Room later, and looked at Draco and Harry.

"I hear you undermined the Defense Professor," he drawled at them, and Harry and Draco simply nodded, bored, and Uncle Sev smiled softly. "Fifty points to Slytherin… each." After Snape's announcement, the seventh years snuck to the kitchens and snagged some butterbeers and snacks, and a small party was held for the bringing down of Lockhart, who couldn't do anything about it, as it _was _a magically binding contract, and, in that case, only the Head of House could punish them. And Snape sure wasn't going to do anything.

The next morning, the Slytherins got a note that they would be allowed to practice, overriding the Gryffindork's allotted time, in order to test out their new beaters.

First, though, they had all gathered together in the courtyard in full Slytherin Quidditch uniform. Flint, of course, was the captain and a Chaser, along with Jonathan Carrow and Jeremiah Carrow (twins). Bletchley was Keeper, Higgs was Seeker, and Harry and Draco were now the Beaters.

"Now," said Harry, addressing the team. "As a present for getting on the team, our Father ––" he motioned to Draco. "Decided to gift the team _these." _Flint's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he saw the seven pristine _Dragonriders_, and the silent question was answered by Draco.

"Yes, they are real. Yes, our Father has connections. Yes, you will be able to keep them, even when you leave the team, we'll just provide more." They cheered, and Harry and Draco found great pleasure in handing them out, and each broom now had it's owners name and position inscribed on them in emerald.

"Let's go kick the Gryffindorks off of our field!" said Flint, and the Slytherins began their little march, standing side-by-side, as they walked to the edge of the Quidditch pitch and then entered it.

"FLINT!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!" Flint, though, was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of rom for all of us, Wood."

Johnson, Spinnet, and Bell, the girls of the Gryffindor team had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team this year, and all of the lads in green were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. '_I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Beaters."_

"You've got new Beaters?" asked Wood, distracted. "Where?" And from behind the five towering upper-years, Harry and Draco emerged, smirking.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's sprogs?" asked one of the twin terrors, looking at Harry and Draco with dislike.

"Funny you should mention their father," said Flint, as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine emerald lettering spelling the words _the Dragonrider_ gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"The best of its kind," said Harry pompously. "Not to be released to the public for several years yet." He looked at all of the Gryffindors' brooms with distaste. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a landslide. As for the old Cleansweeps" –– he smiled nastily at the twin terrors, who were both sporting Cleansweep Fives –– "sweeps the board with them."

For once, the Gryffindors seemed to be stunned into silence, not thinking of a coherent thought to respond with. The Slytherins simply continued smirking, mentally patting themselves on the back.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion." Weasel-bee, Lardbottom, and mudblood Granger were crossing the grass to see what was going on.

"What happened?" asked Weasel-bee. "Why aren't you playing? And what're _they _doing here?" He was looking at the Malfoys, taking in their Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"We're the new Slytherin Beaters, Weasley," said Draco haughtily. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Weasel-bee gaped, open mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" Harry continued smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy _their way in," said Hermione sharply. "_They _got in on pure talent." Harry smirked at her, obviously remembering the incident in first year, before he scrunched up his nose in distaste.

"No one asked _your _opinion," he said snidely, raising his head slightly, chin jutting out. "––you filthy little _mudblood." _ The reactions were quite funny, really. Flint stood in front of Harry to prevent the twin terrors from jumping on him, Draco doubled over in laughter, Spinnet shrieked, "_How dare you!", _and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulling out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Harry's face while Jamie comforted Hermione with Neville's help.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Weasel-bee's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" asked the mudblood, rushing over to him. Weasel-bee opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he gave an almighty belch, and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team was paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Harry and Draco were both rolling around on the ground, laughing. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching up large, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

"Serves him right, trying to help a mudblood," Draco had to add in his own two knuts once he'd regained composure, and the Gryffindor team merely shot him and his brother looks of utter loathing while mudblood Creevey began to snap pictures, and then they hurried to get Weasel-bee to Hagrid.

"You tell your Beaters to watch their mouths," Wood snarled at Flint as the Gryffindork dunderheads made their way to the beast's hut.

"Or what?" asked Harry snidely. "It's not like you blood-traitors could actually _do _anything. Free speech, and all of that rubbish." His grin was practically face-splitting as he sneered at Wood.

"Had that curse actually _worked,"_ he said aloud. "I would have _had _to inform Father about the events that had transpired, and _he _would have told my dear old Uncle Fudge that his son, and the Minister's honorary nephew, had been attacked by a rogue Gryffindor." He smiled sweetly.

"And then all those involved in the attack would be expelled, and you'd be out of a few potential players, and your Beaters" –– Harry motioned to Fred and George, who were being restrained –– "and you wouldn't want that, now would you, Wood?" The sixth year glared at him intensely before he barked the command at his team-mates.

"Gryffindors! MOVE OUT!" Flint smiled snidely and turned to his fellow Slytherin Quidditch members.

"Let's go practice!" he said, and they whooped and quickly mounted their brooms and took to the air. The practice went incredibly smoothly, Draco and Harry working seamlessly together, and Flint was very pleased with the overall outcome. The rest of the Slytherin second years came to congratulate them afterwards, as well as thank them for the lovely show they'd provided with the Gryffindors earlier.

"Honestly, I don't know why the blood-traitors are so sensitive with that word," said Daphne as she held onto Harry's offered bent arm. "Mudbloods are mudbloods, it is what it is, simple as that."

"Well," said Harry, shooting her a charming smile. "They _are _blood-traitors. What did you expect?" Laughter ensued and the Slytherins made their way back to the common room, chatting amiably about the other failures of the Gryffindorks thus far in the school year.

As they were walking back to the Common Room, Harry heard the sound of hissing through the walls, as the great snake they'd helped to unleashed made its first journey of many through the pipes of Hogwarts. The voice was constantly talking about ripping and killing, and devouring flesh, though Harry supposed that _would _be a creature's priority after being locked up inside of a Chamber so long, with only having small sources of food like rodents.

This, of course, was wonderful news. For a while, he had thought that Weasley the youngest might have actually been smart enough to _not _write in the diary, but no, she proved she was just as stupid as the rest of her blood-traitor siblings. After all, it was common sense to not trust something that you couldn't see where its brain was. Honestly, it was one of the common signs of something being a Dark Artefact, and her father worked with those frequently!

Oh, well. The death of Ginny Weasley would simply mean that there would be one less blood traitor in the world, and that was always a good thing.

He smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: In Which Scarhead Goes Batty and the Malfoys Take Revenge**

The Halloween feast, as always, was a rather joyous affair, for all four Houses. The candles that usually lit the Great Hall, floating in the air, had been replaced with jack-o-lanterns of all shapes and sizes, and a Saturday had been set aside to allow any student to wished to join in on the carving of the pumpkins grown by Hagrid.

In addition to all of the wonderful food fit for royalty, there were also sweets of all sorts. Lollipops, toffee, taffy, caramel, candy floss, sugared popping corn, and a wide variety of Honeyduke's finest sweets. Zeus had arrived early that morning with a package of Dobby and Jinky's homemade confections, including fudge, peanut brittle, and several different types of biscuits. Harry favored the chocolate mint ones, while Draco favored peanut butter.

In the darkened light of the Great Hall, the mood was set very easily, and the weather outside seemed to match, as the students observed the storm overhead, with the occasional boom of thunder and the flicker of lightning lighting up the sky.

"We'll have to get together in the Common Room and tell scary stories," Anastasia Nott was telling her first-year Slytherin friends, and the boys smiled at each other.

"Last year, there was a troll inside of Hogwarts," Nott informed his sister matter-of-factly.

"No way," she said, brushing him off, while tossing her cascading raven hair to the side. "You're lying."

"He's telling the truth," said Harry. "Professor Quirrell set it on us, thinking it would distract everyone so that he could get to the Philosopher's Stone, that was hidden here. Anyone can tell you." She looked at them skeptically for a moment, before she shrugged and resumed chatting with her friends, some of whom were sending Harry star-struck looks.

Daphne noticed this and scowled at them, leaning her head onto Harry's shoulder, who smiled into her hair.

"Well, this is new," he commented dryly, and she smiled up at him sweetly, batting her long eyelashes, causing him to focus on her eyes, the exact shade of emeralds… they were so beautiful.

"Well, it is my duty as your betrothed to keep away the other competition," she said, and he casually put his arm around her waist, still smiling.

"Isn't that supposed to be my job?"

"Well, yes, but all of the Slytherin boys know not to mess with you, so I'm left fending off gold-digging hussies." Harry chuckled and kissed Daphne softly on the forehead, as was an acceptable form of affection for a twelve year old to possess.

"You two are so cute, it makes me retch in my mouth a little bit," drawled Draco, and Daphne smiled sweetly at him.

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Draco," she said. "And besides, you'll be dealing with this, soon, as well. Aren't your parents looking for possible marriage arrangements for you, too?"

"Doesn't the oldest usually get betrothed first?" asked Zabini, looking slightly confused.

"Usually," said Harry, chuckling. "But I was the one who breached the subject with Father, so I took first priority." He looked at Draco smugly at this. "I must count my victories as they come."

"And I'm sure there will be many more to come," said Daphne, tilting her head back to shoot Harry a rather mischievous look and a coy smile. Harry laughed, and hugged her tightly for a moment, before the two of them returned to their meals. The band of Gryffindork misfits were noticeably absent from the feast, but for once, Harry didn't really care what was going on in their lives, so long as it didn't affect him.

The Slytherins, after the meal was finished, began their descent to the Common Room, when they saw the Gryffindork misfits standing in front of the body of a hanging cat… who at second glance, they were able to confirm it was Mrs. Noris. On the wall, the words were written:

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE._

Harry and Draco, grinning identical grins, pushed their way to the front of the crowd.

"Enemies of the heir, beware?" asked Draco with a nasty grin. "You'll be next, mudbloods."

"And then the blood traitors," Harry added, the smile still tugging at his lips. The two of them gloated as the Gryffindorks looked at them with undisguised disgust, most likely for the fact that they were grinning at the hanging body of the cat, as it meant that the plans set forth by the Dark Lord and their father were working smoothly… as the artefact they'd sent off was disposable to the Dark Lord.

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Attracted no doubt by the shouts of the two Malfoy brothers, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked… and his popping yellow, lamp-like eyes fell onto Jamie Potter.

"_You!" _he screeched. "_You! _You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll ––"

"_Argus!"_

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Scarhead, Weasel-bee, Lardbottom, and mudblood Granger and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch basket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster –– just upstairs –– please feel free ––"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted like the Red Sea to let them past, but not before Harry cast a listening spell onto Harry's robe, so that he and his fellow Slytherins could listen in.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her –– probably the Transmogrifian Torture –– I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…" Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs.

"Like the fool actually knows anything," said Daphne dryly as the Slytherins listened raptly in the Common Room. "Honestly, everyone knows he's a fraud."

"I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou," Lockhart was continuing on. "A series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once…" there was a pause, and then the voice of the Headmaster sounded through the charm.

"She's not dead, Argus."

"Not dead?" choked Filch. "But why's she all –– all stiff and frozen?"

"She's been Petrified," said Dumbledore. "But how, I cannot say."

"Ask _him!" _here, the Slytherins assumed that Filch was pointing at Jamie Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-to-get-in-trouble-always.

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced ––"

"He did it, he did it!" Filch spat. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found –– in my office –– he knows I'm a –– I'm a ––" there was a pause. "He knows I'm a Squib!"

"I never _touched _Mrs. Norris!" Scarhead erupted loudly.

"Rubbish!" said Filch. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

"If I might speak, Headmaster," came the smooth baritone of Severus Snape from through the listening charm. "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time… but we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?" The jumbled voices of the Gryffindors all protested at once.

"...there were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there."

"But why not join the feast afterward?" Snape continued. "Why go up to that corridor?"

"Because –– because ––" Jamie sputtered. "––because we were tired and wanted to go to bed."

"Without any supper?" asked Snape. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties.

"We weren't hungry!" Weasel-bee objected, and the Slytherins laughed as they heard his stomach rumble.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," said Snape. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest." There were several cheers throughout the Slytherin Common Room, but they quieted down as McGonagall began to speak.

"Really, Severus," she said sharply. "I see no reason to stop the boy playing quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," came the grandfatherly voice of the Headmaster.

"My cat has been Petrified!" Filch shrieked, and the Slytherins winced. "I want to see some _punishment!"_

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it!" the Slytherins groaned as the voice of Gilderoy Lockhart once more butted into the conversation. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep ––"

"Excuse me," came the ice smooth voice of Professor Snape, once more. "But I believe that I am the Potions master at this school." There was an awkward pause in which no one spoke.

"You may go," said Dumbledore, and the Slytherins groaned as they heard the voices of the Gryffindor misfits leaving the room, and Harry quickly cancelled the charm.

"Well," he said finally. "That was interesting."

For the next few days, the school could talk of little else by the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though the attacker might come back. Harry and Draco had seen him scrubbing at the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly" and "looking happy".

For once, there was actually an interesting History of Magic lesson, in which mudblood Granger asked Professor Binns about the Chamber of Secrets. Though he claimed it all to be utter poppycock, the Slytherins knew differently. It was well known between them that Harry was a parselmouth, and could therefore hear the sound of the Basilisk sliding through the pipes, and they all knew they were safe, and didn't bother telling anyone else, because Slytherins took care of themselves.

Soon, it was time for the November Quidditch match, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. After their close defeat the year previous, they were out for Gryffindor blood, and, a week leading up to the match, there were considerably more duels breaking out between the Gryffindors and Slytherins as animosity was at its highest, but Professor Snape always managed to keep his snakes out of serious trouble.

Soon, the two teams were gathered on the pitch, ready to mount their brooms, Harry and Draco wielding their Beater's bats, eager to take on the challenge that was presented to them in the form of the Weasley twins.

"On my whistle," said Madame hooch. "Three… two… one…"

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Higgs and Scarhead flew higher than all the others, scanning for the Snitch. If there was one thing that Potter took seriously, it was Quidditch. Harry and Draco wasted no time in pelting the Gryffindors with Bludgers, managing early to almost hit Potter, who had dived rather spectacularly out of the way, and had hit Spinnet and Johnson in the back of the head.

However, one bludger seemed quite determined to knock Scarhead off of his broom, and kept coming back at him no matter how hard one of the twin terrors sent it away. Harry and Draco shared a grin, and knew that it was Lipsy's handiwork on display. They quickly got into the game, firing bludger after bludger at all of the Gryffindor players, and easily defending their own from the onslaught of the one flying ball not focusing on Potter.

"Slytherin lead, sixty to zero ––" Lee Jordan was saying. Draco and Harry soon got rid of Bell, and then continued their onslaught, allowing the Slytherin Chasers to score ten more goals… Wood was off his game today, and they didn't know why.

As Scarhead went to close his hand on the Snitch, the rogue bludger finally caught up to him, and with a _WHAM _he was down for the count.

From afar, Draco and Harry, along with the other Slytherins, shared a laugh at Potter's dispense when Lockhart vanished all of the bones in his arm, and then they left, laughing merrily, to celebrate their win against Gryffindor, 160-150. It was a lot more fun now that _they _were the ones who had won by ten points, and it was an even sweeter victory because Potter had caught the Snitch, but Slytherin had _still won!_

The next day, the student population discovered that another victim had been Petrified.

This time, it had been mudblood Creevey.

Harry and Draco shared a secretive smile, knowing things were going according to plan.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: Imposters and the Christmas Hols, Wrapping up the Year**

* * *

The day after the Quidditch victory against Gryffindor was a Saturday, so, Harry took a rare chance to sleep in. He stretched luxuriously on his comfortable mattress, green silk comforters providing warmth, and pandiculated(1) for several moments before blearily opening his silver eyes, which turned several colors rapidly before once more settling on their natural shade of grey.

_"Good morning, Master." _Harry gave a start as he saw Regulus perched atop his little "nest" that rested at the top of Harry's wardrobe, the snake uncurling and stretching out his long body, before letting his wings come out to stretch those as well.

"_Good morning to you, too, Regulus," _Harry responded happily. "_How has the hunting been going?"_

_ "Wonderful, thank you for asking," _said Regulus, who was quite possibly the most sophisticated snake Harry had ever met. "_Caelum and I have been exploring the deeper parts of the Dark Forest… we came across a three-headed dog there, yesterday. It was quite strange…" _he trailed off and Harry chuckled, before hastily preparing himself for the day.

Since it was mid December, he threw on his winter cloak before exiting his room with his satchel, and made his way through the tunnels back up to the Slytherin Common Room, where Draco was waiting for him.

"Took you long enough," Draco said, smiling slightly as he teased his brother.

"Is Potter still bed-ridden in the Hospital Wing?" asked Harry innocently, and Draco laughed.

"Probably, but being the Gryffindork he is, he'll be out soon, I assume." The two brothers walked in companionable silence to the Great Hall, where it was lunch time instead of breakfast time. Harry really _had _slept in… the week went by smoothly, as the Gryffindors were actually smart enough to know that they couldn't openly attack the Slytherins for fear of being caught by Professor Snape, or, more likely, the Slytherins snitching on the Gryffindors _to _Professor Snape, and they couldn't decide which one was worse.

In their freetime, Harry and Draco could be found in the second year Common Room looking up information on demiguises and grims. They couldn't actually attempt the transformation until puberty hit, but the Malfoys were known to be early bloomers, so that problem would be rectified over the summer hols. Speaking of the holidays, both boys had already mail-ordered their gifts for everyone as, apparently, their father wanted them to stay there for the Christmas holidays.

Harry and Draco didn't bother asking why, as they assumed that it was family business, and that their father was doing things that they might get in the way of. Naturally, the Gryffindork misfits heard of this fact, and were immediately suspicious of the boys.

"Draco," Harry commented one night as they were walking back to the Slytherin Dormitories, as he noticed that they were being not-so-subtly followed by Lardbottom and Weasel-bee. "I think that the Gryffindorks think that one of us is the Heir of Slytherin."

"Well, I know we have a rather impressive bloodline," said Draco, sniggering. "But I don't think it's _that _nobel."

"If we'd been descendants of Slytherin, I think one of us would have said something by now," Harry said dryly. "I mean, everyone knows how much you like to brag." Draco looked affronted for a moment before smiling sheepishly and shrugging his shoulders at his brother, because he couldn't deny a something that was fact, and that he openly admitted to be true.

"Let's just hope they don't do anything stupid," Harry added, and Draco scoffed, causing his brother to look at him funnily for a moment.

"Come _on, _Harry, they're _Gryffindorks, _of _course _they're going to do something stupid, it's in their nature." The two brother dissolved into a fit of laughter, leaving behind a pair of very confused blood-traitors. Thursday arrived, and with it came Harry and Draco's favorite class.

Double Potions with the Gryffindorks.

This was, of course, an excellent time to rack up Slytherin points and make the Gryffindors look like complete idiots due to Uncle Sev's blatant favoritism. The Potion they were in the midst of brewing was a Swelling Solution. Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients. Uncle Sev prowled through the fumes, makings waspish remarks about the Gryffindors' work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Draco and Harry, who were sitting on the desk diagonal to Scarhead's and Weasel-bee's, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at the two of them, who knew that if they retaliated they would get detention faster than you can say "Unfair".

Harry was paying close attention to the misfits, smelling that they were up to something, as mudblood Granger kept looking around, and Lardbottom looked as if he was going to piss his pants –– more so than usual, that is –– and even Scarhead and Weasel-bee were lacking their usual arrogance and looked rather nervous.

As Uncle Sev went off to bully Lardbottom on the fact that his Swelling Solution was little more than colored water, Scarhead made his move. From his bag, he pulled a Filibuster Quick-Start Firework, flicked it, and then chucked it into the air, where it landed pristinely into Goyle's potion.

"_Protego!" _called Harry, shielding himself and his brother from the splattering potion, almost missing when mudblood Granger snuck into Uncle Sev's storerooms. Key word being _almost_. His frown deepened when his Uncle didn't seem to notice, but he decided to use that as blackmail material for a later date, and instead focused on trying to get Potter in trouble. The majority of the class was covered in Swelling Solution, as it seemed only Harry and Daphne had bothered to raise shield charms, and the class was in utter chaos.

"Silence! SILENCE!" bellowed Uncle Sev, looking positively murderous. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught –– when I find out who did this ––" as students headed to the front to receive the antidote, Harry saw mudblood Granger come back out of the storeroom, the front of her robes bulging, and Harry knew that she'd stolen potions ingredients from the storeroom… but why?

When everyone had taken a swig of the antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle's cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape whispered. "I shall _make sure _that person is expelled." Harry smiled deviously and raised his hand, composing himself to look rather frightened, and Scarhead's face instantly whitened.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Snape, automatically interested in what evidence his honorary nephew and godson had to say.

"Professor Snape, sir," he began, rather shakingly. "I saw who threw the firework" –– Potter's face was chalky white now, and the other misfits seemed to catch on as well, looking extremely panicked –– "I can even offer my memories as proof. As soon as you walked over to inspect Mr. Longbottom's potion, Potter pulled the firework from his bag and tossed it into Goyle's potion. It was deliberate, sir."

A twisted, sadistic smile was now pulling its way onto Snape's face as he looked at Potter cruelly.

"That's a lie!" protested Weasel-bee instantly, shaking his finger at Harry. "Malfoy's got it out for Jamie –– he would never ––"

"Silence, you daft child," snapped Snape, and Weasel-bee quieted instantly. "Your memory, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry nodded diligently and held his wand up to his forehead, copying the memory of Scarhead tossing the firework into Goyle's potion.

"No one is to move an inch until I return," barked Snape, and they all sat quietly when he entered his office –– Harry noticed that Granger looked rather panicked at this, so he winked at her, and then she turned even _more _of a chalky white, knowing that Harry had seen her –– and he exited a few minutes later, still smiling victoriously.

"I'm sorry that took so long," he said silkily. "I had to make a floo call…. and copy the memory a few times, of course." Scarhead seemed to pale and then, moments later, another figure walked out of Snape's office, most likely having come through the floo.

It was Lily Potter, who was absolutely seething with rage.

"We're going to the Headmaster's office," she said quietly, which was almost worse than he wailing rage, as Scarhead _knew _he was in _deep shit_. "Come along now, James." Smug smile still in place, Uncle Sev nodded to the rest of the class.

"Class dismissed."

Word of Potter's punishment soon broke out. To Snape and the Slytherins' dismay, he wasn't to be expelled. Two hundred points had been taken from Gryffindor, putting them in last place and quickly making Scarhead the bad guy to his fellow Gryffindors. His Quidditch privileges had also been revoked, causing Wood to go berserk, and he had detention every night… with Filch, and every afternoon… with Snape.

For the Slytherins, it was sweet, sweet revenge. No one there like Potter, at all, especially those with Death Eater parents, as he was the cause of the Dark Lord's downfall and, thus, the cause of the downfall of some of their parents. It didn't matter that he probably wasn't even aware of what he was doing the night that he vanquished the Dark Lord, but they still held a grudge against him for it in true Slytherin style.

A week after the 'Potions Incident', as it had been deemed by many –– really, people were so imaginative in naming things –– there was an announcement on the bulletin board in the Slytherin Common Room stating the formation of a dueling club.

"Oh, this should be good," said Harry snidely, looking at it. "I bet you ten galleons that it'll be Lockhart running it."

"You're on," said Nott, smiling. "It'll be Flitwick for sure, he was a dueling champion when he was younger, you know."

"Well," said Harry, shaking his head. "I guess I'll have to go to prove you wrong. Who knows? I might actually duel someone worthy of my time." The day seemed to pass quickly, and almost everyone hurried to the Great Hall after dinner had been cleaned, where the tables had been lined up together to form a dueling platform.

Nott groaned and handed Harry his ten galleons as Lockhart walked onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Uncle Sev, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions –– for full details, see my published works."

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile, and Uncle Sev's scowl merely deepened, and Harry noted that he did not like the fact that he was being called an assistant like in some muggle magic show. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry –– you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

The Slytherins snorted in unison. Like Lockhart could _ever _duel on par with Snape, who was an accomplished duelist. He _had _to be to be in the Dark Lord's inner circle. The man in question's upper lip was curling, and Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Uncle Sev had been looking at _him _like that, he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry muttered to Draco, who chuckled, both seeing their honorary Uncle's harsh death glare aimed at Lockhart.

"One –– two –– three ––"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "_Expelliarmus!"_ There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted from his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor. The Slytherins cheered loudly, smirking at each other.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm –– as you see, I've lost my wand –– ah, thank you, Miss Brown –– yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy –– however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…" Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you would like to help me ––"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart paired Lardbottom with mudblood Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Scarhead and Weasel-bee first.

"I think I'll split up the dream team," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy –– Harry –– you come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Mr. Weasley, can pair with Draco. Miss Granger, with Miss Bulstrode."

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Harry and Potter barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to Disarm your opponents –– _only _to disarm them –– we don't want any accidents –– one…two...three––"

Scarhead swung his wand high, but Harry had already started on "two": his spell hit Scarhead so hard that he stumbled, but continued on anyways.

"_Rictusempra!" _Scarhead shouted, but Harry deflected it easily with a simple shield charm.

"_I said Disarm only!" _Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Scarhead fell to his knees, laughing, as his rebounded spell hit him in the stomach full on, doubled over with laughter, barely able to move. Snape begrudgingly cancelled the charm on Potter and the fighting stopped.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan… Careful there, Miss Fawcett… Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot ––"

"I think I'd better teach you how to _block _unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eye glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair –– Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you––"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Lardbottom's fat face turned pink. "How about Mr. Harry Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

Snape moved closer to Harry, who smiled reassuringly at him, and Snape whispered in his ear.

"Make sure to make him look the fool he is, Harrison."

"Of course, Uncle Sev," Harry replied, smiling up at him.

"Professor, could you show me that blocking spell again?" Harry heard Potter say.

"Scared?" muttered Harry, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.

"You wish," said Scarhead out of the corner of his mouth.

"Three –– two –– one –– go!" Lockhart shouted.

Harry raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "_Serpensortia!"_

The end of his wand exploded, and a long, black snake shot out of it and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Scarhead standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it.."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike." To Harry's utmost surprise, Potter began speaking to it.

"_Leave him alone_!" he could hear Potter his.

"_You stupid snake_," Harry hissed back, not one to be one-upped by Potter. "_Come back here. Come to me… little snake_."

"_Don't listen to him!" _Potter hissed, "_Come with me!" _The snake made to strike, but then returned to Harry, who was hissing soothingly, and Harry smirked as the snake coiled around his arm, the students gaping. The scene had appeared that Potter was trying to attack Justin with the snake, and Harry had saved him.

"What are you playing at?" mudblood FF shouted, before calling out to Harry, his eyes softening. "Thanks, Malfoy!" The Slytherins looked upon him proudly as he held the snake softly in his arms, still hissing soothing words at it.

"_What's your name, little snake?" _for the snake was a magical breed, a coal-ashwinder, one of the few who lived past an hour, though it was still a hatchling.

"_My mother called me Char," _the male snake slithered, burrowing itself into Harry's robes for warmth. "_You wouldn't happen to know somewhere I could stay, would you?"_

_"I've got a magical snake, with wings, his name is Regulus," _said Harry. "_I'm sure he'll show you the ropes of living with me, Char." _The snake gave a little snake like smile and allowed himself to sleep in Harry's arms.

After the Parseltongue Incident, everyone was certain that it was _Potter _who was the heir of Slytherin, and not Malfoy, and Harry wondered about the school population's stupidity. Sure, it'd looked like he'd saved the mudblood when, really, he was saving the snake, but that didn't mean that everyone had to automatically assume that Potter was the many times great-grandson of the most noble of the four Founders!

They were even _more _convinced, however, when Justin Finch-Fletchley was found Petrified along with Nearly-Headless Nick, and Jamie Potter was the only other person there when Peeves brought the situation to the attention of everyone else.

Soon, everyone had left for the Christmas holidays –– Daphne parting with a swift kiss to Harry's cheek –– and it was only Harry, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and three fourths of the Gryffindork misfits still in the castle (Lardbottom had been ordered to come home).

Harry and Draco were making their way back to the Common Room when they saw Crabbe and Goyle, looking rather lost, stuck in a conversation with Percy Weasley.

"There you are," Harry drawled, looking at them. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall at this time? We've been looking for you; we wanted to show you something really funny." Harry glanced witheringly at Percy.

"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.

Percy looked outraged.

"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!" Harry sneered, and he and Draco motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow them, who followed rather hastily in a very un-Crabbe and Goyle style.

"That Peter Weasley ––" began Draco, but, surprisingly, Crabbe interrupted him.

"Percy." Harry and Draco exchanged looks.

_They aren't Crabbe and Goyle. Firstly, Crabbe and Goyle do not hurry, and they certainly don't speak, _Harry projected.

_Do a brief scan, _offered Draco. Harry did so, and there was a moment of awkward silence.

_It's Weasel-bee and Scarhead under polyjuice. _

_ Let's act natural and have a bit of fun, then._

"Whatever," Draco continued, as if he'd never stopped talking, nor that Weasel-bee had interrupted him. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."

He gave a short, derisive laugh. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged excited looks.

Harry and Draco walked to the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room.

"What's the password again?" Harry asked Potter, trying to get a reaction out of him.

"Er ––"

"Oh, yeah –– _pureblood!" _Harry continued, laughing inwardly, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. They marched through it and entered the Slytherin Common Room.

"Wait here," said Draco, rushing off, leaving Scarhead and Weasel-bee alone with Harry, which made them rather uneasy, and Harry was enjoying watching them squirm.

"That'll give you a laugh," said Draco, tossing the _Daily Prophet _at 'Crabbe and Goyle'. Weasel-bee's eyes widened as he read the clipping.

**INQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts

Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a muggle car. Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today for Mr. Weasley's resignation.

"Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Mr. Malfoy told our reporter. "He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately." Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.

"Well?" said Draco impatiently as Scarhead handed the paper back to him. "Don't you think it's funny?"

"Ha, ha," said Scarhead bleakly.

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Harry scornfully. "You'd never know the Weasleys were purebloods, the way they behave." Crabbe's –– or rather, Weasel-bee's –– face contorted with fury.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" taunted Draco, very much enjoying this.

"Stomachache," Weasel-bee grunted.

"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," said Draco, sniggering. "You know, I'm surprised the _Daily Prophet _hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loved Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."

Harry scrunched up his face, and it morphed into that of mudblood Creevey's, snapping pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of the mudblood: "Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I like your shoes, please, Potter?" He dropped his hands and looked at Scarhead and Weasel-bee, his face returning to normal.

"What's the _matter _with the two of you?"

Far too late, Scarhead and Weasel-bee forced themselves to laugh, and Harry and Draco laughed inwardly at their stupidity.

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Draco slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped-up mudblood Granger. and people think _he's _Slytherin's heir!"

Crabbe and Goyle appeared to wait with bated breath, and Harry and Draco knew then why they were there. Harry continued the act.

"I _wish _I knew who it _is_," he said petulantly. "I could help them." Weasel-bee's jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual.

"You must have some idea who's behind it all," said Scarhead, and Harry had to admit, it was unnerving seeing Goyle talk.

"You know we haven't, Goyle," snapped Draco. "How many times do I have to tell you? And Father won't tell me _anything _about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing –– the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood _died. _So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time… I hope it's Granger," he said with relish, knowing how to push Scarhead's and Weasel-bee's buttons.

"Do you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" asked Goyle.

"Oh, yeah...whoever it was was expelled," said Harry. "They're probably still rotting in Azkaban." _Actually, _he was now the gatekeeper of Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid. He shifted in his chair.

"Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?" That was a blatant lie, Uncle Fudge would never allow it.

"Yeah…." Draco continued. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some _very _valuable Dark Arts stuff… but I won't bother you with the details of where it's hidden." They noticed that Harry and Ron were changing back into themselves, and they began to leave. Before they were out of the door, they froze as Harry said lazily.

"Oh, and Scarhead, Weasel-bee, if you'd done your research, you'd have known that Crabbe and Goyle _never talk. _Now get. Out. of. our. common. room." The two boys fled, obviously horrified at getting talked, and Harry and Draco sniggered and high-fived.

"Stupid blood traitors," said Draco, looking quite smug.

The rest of the holidays went by smoothly, the boys getting mountains of gifts from all of their pureblood contacts, of course, but Harry particularly liked the cloak Daphne had gotten him. Crabbe and Goyle had eventually found their way back to the Slytherin Common Room, and they'd spent the rest of their time resting in peace, as the Gryffindorks avoided them like the plague.

Life was good.

After that, there weren't many incidents between the Gryffindorks and the Malfoy brothers, as they were still avoiding them rather avidly, to say the least, all holed up in their research of theirs, trying to figure out what on Earth was going on with the Chamber of Secrets. For a while, it seemed as though the Heir had lost their nerve, as the attacks slowed down for a bit, and things slowly started going back to normal.

Of course, Harry and Draco, as well as a handful of other Slytherins, had a free period during Defense Against the Dark Arts in which they didn't do much other than talk strategy and wonder what in Merlin's name the Heir would be up to at this point, and trying to figure out who the next attack would be on.

They found their answer towards the end of the term, when mudblood Granger and another Ravenclaw mudblood were found in the hall, Petrified, a small hand mirror clutched in Granger's palm… so the girl had figured out that the Slytherin monster was a Basilisk.

Harry had to give her points for that, honestly. She might be a mudblood, but she sure was a smart mudblood. Things only got worse after that. The attacks picked up again, and things inside the castle seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Quidditch was cancelled, Hagrid was brought back to Azkaban, and the Board of Governors was trying to kick Dumbledore out and close the school.

That, of course, all changed when Ginny Weasley was apparently kidnapped and brought down to the bottom of the Chamber of Secrets, where her skeleton would lie forever. It fascinated Harry in an odd, morbid sort of way that someone would kidnap the person who brought them to life, kill them, and take their place in the world, though as a different person. The magic in the Dark Lord's "horcrux" was truly astounding, and a lovely piece of magic.

Potter, as always, had to play the hero, and the school watched as, miraculously, he began to pick up the pieces of life at Hogwarts and put them back together. He'd slain the Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor, which he'd pulled out of the Sorting Hat, destroyed the diary, and rescued poor little Ginny Weasley.

Of course, the Dark Lord would be angry with another defeat at the hands of the blood-traitor, but, as the diary hadn't been a _true _horcrux, all was well. However, Potter was now more arrogant than ever, in his usual peacock strutting style, and that was never good, but Slytherin still narrowly pulled a House Cup win over Gryffindor by twenty points, this year, increasing their previous victory by ten points.

That year, there were no end-of-year-exams, except for the OWL and NEWT students, so, when the scarlet engine rolled into Hogsmeade station, everyone was relaxed and ready for the summer holidays.

* * *

**(1) - Pandiculation is another term for yawning and stretching at the same time.**

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for all the review, follows, and favorites. It means a lot to me! I'll keep up the several updates a week, but I don't think I'll be posting all of them on one day anymore. Instead, I'll just post the chapters as I finish them instead of waiting to have three completed at a time. Unless you like the three reviews at a time, of course. Leave a review and tell me what you think.**

**As I was going through this, I understood that there may be some questions as to why the Dark Lord is gone even though, in the first chapter, he said he would stage his defeat.**

**He took Harry to the Malfoys first, and then went back to Potter cottage, where Dorea Potter engaged him in a duel, having arrived there to babysit the twins. He eventually got annoyed and killed her, before shooting the curse at the child, which rebounded and hit him, actually making the weaker twin the Chosen One.**

**This, however, is in his favor, as he knows that the child will never be able to overpower him in a duel. **

**As in canon, Voldemort will return to full power during the gang's fourth year at Hogwarts, as he wants Potter's blood to ensure that nothing can stop him.**

**Please leave a review, as I live for them, and don't forget to follow/favorite.**

**Cheers!**

**-Sam**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Okay, before we start this chapter, I'd like to give a HUGE thanks to all of those who took the time to review/favorite/follow, and I'd like to address some things brought up in some of the comments.**

**Firstly, thanks for bringing the Harry/Jamie occasional mix-up to my attention. As I am working without a BETA, and usually just write when the inspiration overcomes me, thus typing very quickly, I sometimes miss small things like that, and I'll do my best to ensure that it doesn't happen in the future. **

**If you want to offer BETA services, that'd be awesome. PM me if you're interested, I guess...**

**Secondly, there was some speculation on Harry's animagus form, and I quote: "...an invisible undersized monkey is NOT that badass...", and they continued to request a second animagus form.**

**Firstly: though Harry and Draco are powerful in their own right, this is due to an intense training programme set up for them at age seven, when their magical cores finally stabilized enough to wield wands, which is why they're so advanced. A second animagus form, I feel, would be too much of a power-play, and no one likes a Gary-Stu. Harry and Draco both have their flaws, and, though things may seem fine and dandy now, I plan for there to be bumps in the road.**

**Secondly: An animagus reflects the innermost personalities of the person. Draco, whose animal is a grim, seeks power over others and enjoys inspiring fear. Harry, on the other hand, is much more subtle, and prefers silent, invisible manipulation over in-your-face Gryffindor styles of intimidation. Thus, a rather sneaky species that can turn invisible was a rather nice fit for him, or so I thought.**

**I understand that our opinions may differ on this point, but I, as the writer, am trying to make this story as people-pleasing as I can, but I'm going to let my artistic license flow here, and, in conclusion: no, Harry will not be getting a second animagus form, though I thank you for your input.**

**If you've skipped to here to actually get to the story: Hello! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and, once again, I always appreciate your feedback.**

**Flames welcomed, I need something to laugh at. 3**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Summer Transformations (In More Ways then One)**

Malfoy Manor was a rather busy place over the summer after Harry and Draco's second year at Hogwarts. For one, there were several Lords and Ladies coming and going every day, each trying to convince Lucius that their daughter would be the right match for Draco to one day become the next Lady Malfoy.

Regulus and Char were hardly ever seen, as the elder of the two snakes took his time showing his young 'snakeling', as he appeared to have adopted Char, around the Manor, and teaching him the do's and don't's of being a Malfoy snake. Of course, Caelum hardly ever made an appearance as well, as _he _spent the majority of his time in the Manor's magical animal zoo, spending time with the _other _Malfoy chama, Aphrodite, who was expecting cubs.

Harry and Draco really didn't have a chance to relax that summer, as, as soon as they'd arrived home, Bellatrix was upon them, thrusting pages upon pages of research into the Dark Arts, and many darker forms of magic that existed in the world at that moment. This included going over an intense study of runes and arithmancy, as both were highly applicable for wards, and, more importantly, the breaking _into _of wards, which was a necessary skill for the Inner Circle Death Eaters, which was the position Harry and Draco were being groomed for, as well as being War Generals, as war was inevitable in such a situation as this one.

Of course, the Dark Lord was still around, but not in his full, powerful form, merely a shade, going around and possessing different people until he could achieve a full, more powerful means of existing, which was why he needed Potter so badly. The priorities for their summer training, though, were learning more spells, being able to apply them in a practical dueling setting, and the animagus transformation, as they were already proficient in Occlumency and Legilimency.

As quickly became evident as the weeks went on, the Animagus process wasn't the only transformation the boys would be going through that summer. Acne had started to blemish their creamy perfect skin –– though _that _problem was quickly rectified, Draco using glamour spells and Harry simply using his metamorphmagus abilities –– their voices began to crack and deepen, their Adam's apples began protruding, and they began to quickly sprout like weeds, beginning to transform into the handsome young men that they would be, as a result of good genes.

Of course, the boys were rather awkward about the whole thing, and would be quite uncharacteristically bashful whenever their mother or Aunt Bellatrix began to fuss over how grown up they were becoming, and just spending time embracing the maternal instinct instead of the usual attitude as if they were preparing Harry and Draco for war –– which they were.

Circumstance meant that their Uncle Sev would be over much more often as well, as he himself was an animagus –– a bat, who would have guessed? –– as he guided them along the transformation, which was a rather tedious process.

"Now that you have fully studied the anatomy of your animagus forms," he said in his usual silky baritone teaching voice. "You will be able to attempt partial transformations. Now, this is very similar to human transfiguration, which one usually doesn't learn until their seventh year at Hogwarts. However, since the two of you are very advanced, I have no qualms that you will be able to do so." He paused.

"Now, the process of partial transformations is rather simple. As in transfiguration, you are focusing on turning a part of yourself into the part of the animal. Now, in both cases, the two of you have tails, so you'll have to focus on elongating your tailbone into the tailbone that resides inside the respective tails of your two animals, which will be a bit harder for you, Harry, because your tail will be like a fifth appendage."

Draco smirked at Harry, who rolled his eyes at his brother's childish behavior, which, apparently, puberty had done nothing to change.

"Basically, what you do is you channel your magic –– you two know how to do that, correct? You had to learn channeling magic to learn Occlumency –– anyways, you channel your magic into the body part that you change, and make sure to factor in your clothing so you don't leave it behind."

The boys nodded, and Harry paused.

"Will it be easier for me to learn as I'm already skilled in morphing myself because I'm a metamorphmagus?" Snape's eyebrows furrowed and he shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out."

Harry quickly began the meditative process to find his magical core, which was a bright, blinding electric blue, and began channeling his magic through wispy strands into his tailbone. When he emerged from the trance –– around an hour later –– he saw, with great pride, that a long, thin, silky silver fur. He waved it around.

"This is weird," he informed his godfather matter-of-factly, and Severus chuckled.

"I would assume it would be," he said dryly. "Unless you've secretly been harboring a secret tail all of your life." Half an hour later, Draco emerged from his trance-like state, and Harry watched giddily as his left arm turned into a long, white furred leg of a grim, complete with paw.

"I feel unbalanced," he was complaining, and Harry just grinned cheekily at his brother.

"Mutt."

"Monkey."

"Alright," said Severus. "Now try and change back."

By the end of the next hour, both Harry and Draco emerged, back to normal, both of them panting slightly with the magical exertion.

"I suppose it gets easier with practice?" asked Harry, and Severus nodded with a tight, apologetic smile.

"You'll be magically drained for a while afterwards until you get the hang of it," he confirmed, before pushing them in the general direction of the Solar. "Go and get some rest, the both of you. We'll continue working within the next couple of days. I've no doubt you'll have it mastered by the end of the summer holidays."

As a cool down the next day from their magical exhaustion, the boys spent their time in the Malfoy Family Library, flipping through large tomes to research more Dark Magic. Some of the spells that they came across and began practicing on muggles were as follows: blinding curse, lung crushing curse, human explosion curse, tongue cutting curse, freezing charm, spine cracking curse, flesh rotting curse, and the spell that allowed one to create an inferius, which was quite nasty business.

One would think that the three Unforgivable curses would be hard to master, when, in reality, they were some of the easiest spells out there, as they were all about intent. The intent to kill someone, the intent to torture someone, the intent to dominate and control someone. That was basically all there was to it, so the boys didn't really need to focus their studies on something as simple as that.

Overall, the summer was just one big project after another. During the school year, Lucius had taken the time to renovate a large section of the grounds at Malfoy Manor and create training grounds, which had a track, a large swimming pool, an indoor set of weights and other body building mechanisms –– none of them muggle, of course –– so Harry and Draco spent their mornings there, working underneath the sun, which was very unusual for a pureblood.

The only reason they bothered with all the exercise was because it was proven that there was a correlation between magical energy levels with mental and physical health, and the higher the physical and mental health, the higher the magical power. Thus, it was a win-win situation. Harry and Draco stayed healthy, and their magical cores only grew, and never shrunk.

(POV switch for a little fuuuuun)

Daphne strummed her fingers against the dining table as she anxiously awaited for her mother to take her to Malfoy Manor, where she'd be spending the day with Harry, and most likely Draco. Astoria was peering at her curiously through baby blue eyes, her dark bangs nearly covering them.

"Why are you so anxious?" she asked. Daphne shot her the patented 'Slytherin Ice Queen' look with her piercing emerald eyes.

"You'll understand when _you're _betrothed." The younger Greengrass scrunched up her nose in distaste.

"No thank you," she said. "I'd rather not."

"You don't really have a choice," said Daphne blandly. "It's not up to us… I'm just thankful that Harrison took interest… Father would have to be daft to turn down a marriage proposal from a Malfoy, even _if _Harry's only to inherit the title Lord Black instead of Lord Malfoy."

"There's a difference?" asked Astoria, and Daphne almost let out an unladylike snort. _Almost. _

"Of course, the Malfoy fortune is the largest in the wizarding world as of the moment, with the Black fortune coming in at a close second." Astoria rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

"Daphne!" called the chime-like voice of Delilah Greengrass came from the front parlor, where the flooing fireplace was located. Daphne –– in a very ladylike manner –– hurried over to her mother, making sure to smooth down her summer casual dress, which was pale blue and black. Daphne was the spitting image of her mother, except with her father's eyes.

"Ready, darling?" asked Delilah, and Daphne nodded firmly.

"Yes, Mother." She stepped into the fireplace, holding a handful of floo powder, and said clearly: "Malfoy Manor!" She spun through the floo network effortlessly and landed gracefully in the Malfoy fireplace.

"Daphne! Welcome!" Daphne stepped out of the fireplace and came face-to-face with Narcissa Malfoy, who was smiling at her kindly. "The boys are in the training area, outside and down the gravel pathway to your right."

Daphne nodded and began walking outside and followed the gravel pathway, subconsciously twiddling with the button on the neckline of her dress, which was filled out much more than her dresses had been the year previous, as she'd done quite a bit of growing, too.

The gravel path twisted elegantly through the pristine gardens of Malfoy Manor, and the training area became exposed to her, complete with track and swimming pool. With a bounce in her step, she made her way to the glass doors and peered inside, and her mouth gaped open when she looked in.

Draco and Harry were both lifting weights, shirtless, their chests gleaming with perspiration as they focused on the task in front of them. Sure, Draco was a fine catch, but Daphne only had eyes for Harry, whose form she took in with her eyes hungrily, like any teenaged girl her age would. She'd really gotten a good one.

She finally composed herself and elegantly walked into the cooled interior of the training area, and her appearance quickly became known to both Harry and Draco, the former who quickly performed a cleaning spell on himself, as well as an aguamenti and drying charm, until his toned chest was dry and squeaky clean.

He came over to her, smiling.

"Hey, Daphne!" she met him halfway, and he pulled her into a tight embrace, in which Daphne practically swooned, feeling his bare muscles against her, and she resisted the strong urge to feel the tones areas of his abs and pectorals, fighting to stay composed as the pureblood heiress she'd been raised as.

"How has your summer been?" he asked her, and Daphne smiled winningly up at him, batting her eyelashes.

"Wonderful, so far," she said sweetly. "More lessons and training, both etiquette and defense. My mother can't seem to decide whether she wants me to be a housewife or a warrior. Yours?"

"It's been great," he practically purred at her, still holding her in his arms. "But it's just gotten better." Daphne stifled a giggle and Draco rolled his eyes, and Daphne quickly swatted at Harry's chest, laughing lightly.

"That was cheesey," she said, and Harry grinned at her cheekily.

"Who, me?" he laughed and kissed her on the forehead softly, before stepping back. "One moment, while I go to the showers and get properly cleaned and clothed. You coming, Draco?" The older of the two nodded and they hurried away, leaving Daphne to her own devices, and she found herself simply admiring the beauty of Malfoy Manor.

Five minutes later, they'd returned, hair wet, though it wasn't a problem for Harry, who could ensure it stayed out of his face.

"What have the two of you been learning so far?" she asked, and the two launched into an explanation of all of the wondrous things they'd been covering that summer. The three spent a rather relaxing afternoon together, and Draco retired early to let the two spend some time together alone.

Far too soon, it was time for Daphne to return, and she and Harry embraced tightly, his deepened laugh rumbling through his chest against hers. He tilted her head back slightly and leaned forward, and Daphne stood on tip-toe –– Harry _had _sprouted like a weed –– and their lips met softly for a few moments.

"Goodbye, Daph," he said, smiling as she swatted him on the head teasingly for addressing her by her nickname.

"I'll see you another time," she promised, before entering the parlor, where her mother was waiting, as the two of them returned home, a large smile on Daphne's face.

"What's got you so happy?" asked Astoria curiously when they returned, and Daphne shook her head fondly.

"You'll understand when you're betrothed."

(and back to normal. :p)

The summer passed quickly after that, and, true to Severus' word, the two young Malfoys mastered the animagus transformation with two weeks left of summer to spare. After all of the training they'd undertaken, they looked to be fourteen or fifteen instead of their actual age of thirteen, but had not gained any facial hair –– naturally, that is. Harry could grow it whenever he felt like it –– so they still looked like young teenagers and not yet fully grown aristocrats.

Their training was progressing very smoothly, and Bellatrix, Severus, Narcissa, and Lucius couldn't be more pleased with them. The week before term began, however, the _Daily Prophet _provided a rather shocking headline.

**Peter Pettigrew Escapes From Azkaban!**

Peter John Pettigrew, aged 33, escaped from the Wizarding Prison Azkaban in the late hours last night, somehow escaping the wrath of the Prison Guards, the Dementors, which are creatures known for sucking out souls and taking all happy memories away from all in their presence, only to be warded off by a Patronus charm. Pettigrew was convicted twelve years ago for aiding You-Know-Who in the invasion of the Potter ancestral home, the attempted murder of Jamie Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the murder of the other Potter twin, Harald Potter, as well as the murder of thirteen muggles that arrived at the scene in order to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on. The Minister was not to be reached for comments on how this Inner Circle Death Eater might have found his way out of the world's most secure wizarding prison.

-Rita Skeeter

"I wonder how he slipped," pondered Harry, his pale eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "From what Father has said, Pettigrew was little more than a squib. There's no way he'd have been able to escape from Azkaban!"

"And what's even more upsetting," said Draco as he flipped through the Prophet. "Is that the Weasleys won the weekly Ministry Galleon Draw."

"How much?" asked Harry.

"A thousand galleons." A scowl to match his brother's crossed Harry's face.

"That's more than the blood-traitors deserve," grumbled Harry, his silver eyes flashing red for a moment, portraying his deep anger that the blood traitors be rewarded, for anything. "They deserve to be penniless, just like we ensured eight generations ago!"

Eight generations ago, the Malfoys had cheated the Weasleys out of their fortune by baiting them with their re-instation on the Wizengamot and the return of their title as a part of the sacred twenty-eight. Marcus Weasley, the then head of the Weasley house, had been a rather avid gambler and drinker, so he'd had no qualms in bargaining his fortune away, and had unfortunately died before the Malfoys could ensure they fill their part of the agreement, which died with Marcus.

Sadly, the Weasleys could not reclaim their fortune, and had been left penniless, and the Malfoys were just that much richer.

"I know, brother," said Draco, sighing heavily, his own silvery grey eyes shining with anger and disgust. "But Arthur Weasley won't fall for the same tricks his ancestors did. He may be a muggle-loving piece of trash, but he _is _a good strategist. He'll manage the money well, and ensure his banshee of a wife doesn't spend it all."

"How have they been paying for Hogwarts for seven?" wondered Harry aloud, and their father provided the answer when he prowled into the room.

"The Potters have been providing them with funds, as they are friends of the family," said Lucius, his nose scrunched up in distaste. "Honestly, to think they'd sink so low as to accept charity from non family members. The gall of it all…. Are the two of you prepared for the start of term?"

"Yes," said Draco. "Our letters arrived just this morning. We'll just need to get our new textbooks. All the core classes, and then Care of Magical Creatures for the both of us, Divination for me, and Ancient Runes and Arithmancy for Harry."

"Three electives?" asked Lucius with a raised eyebrow, directing the question at Harry, who shrugged.

"I needed a bit of a challenge, seeing as I already breeze through my core classes, and Ancient Runes and Arithmancy interest me. CoMC is more for laughs." Lucius nodded, and observed both of his sons with keen silver eyes.

"I am very proud of the both of you," he said suddenly, and the boys lit up at the praise from their father. "You have been, and will continue to, done the Malfoy family name justice. I could ask for no more from the two of you." He allowed them a small smile, and hugged the both of them briefly –– which was more of a show of outward affection than Lucius had allowed in a very long time –– before exiting the room and being on his way.

"Boys?" asked Severus, who entered the room a few minutes after Lucius had left, walking in to see the boy idly chatting.

"Yes, Uncle Sev?" they asked in unison, and a small smile tugged at the Potion's master's lips.

"Are you two ready to go to Diagon Alley to pick up your school supplies?"

"Yes, Uncle Sev." He gracefully held out an arm to the both of them, and side apparated them both to Diagon Alley, where he would accompany them on their endeavors to procure the necessary items for that school year. Lucius was unavailable as he was needed in a conference with the other underground Death Eaters, and Narcissa was off visiting her grandfather, Arcturus.

"Which books do you need?" asked Severus as they entered their first destination, Flourish and Blotts.

"Two copies of the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three, Intermediate Potions for the Potioneer, Intermediate Transfiguration, Herbs and Magical Fungi Vo. 3, _and _The Monsters_, as well as one copy each of _Numerology and Grammatica, Unfogging the Future, _and _Decoding: A Guide to Ancient Runes_," Harry listed recalled from memory, and Snape nodded.

"Here they are," he said, and quickly summoned the necessary titles to his arms, and the boys quickly made their purchases and accepted the wrapped package gracefully, and they summoned Dobby to drop it off back at the Solar.

They then went to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, as they _had _grown quite a bit over the summer, and spent an achingly boring hour being fitted for their new school robes, the assault of poking and prodding needles and measuring tapes annoying, to say the least. After that, they went to Merlin Outfitter –– where only the elite wizards shopped, the witches favored Twilfitt and Tatting's –– in order to purchase the clothes that were worn under Hogwarts robes.

Crisp white button-up shirts, light grey sweaters, and long, black pants were the standard Hogwarts wear, along with shining black leather shoes. Harry and Draco purchased plenty of those, as well as Slytherin ties, scarfs, cloaks, and hats, before they moved on to more casual clothing. Silk and cotton t-shirts were purchased, as well as pairs of denim pants, and several loose fitting shorts for when they were around casual company and not pureblood aristocracy.

Potions supplies were procured at several different shops, including Slug & Jiggers Apothecary and Potage's Cauldron Shop. Different colored inks as well as reams of parchment were purchased at Scribbulus Writing Instruments, while quills were bought elsewhere at Amanuensis Quills. They stopped for a moment at Sugarplum's Sweets Shop to stock up on enough confections to last until the first Hogsmeade visit. After a quick snack at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, the three were on their way back to Malfoy Manor after a long day of shopping, all eager to get a few moments of rest.

It had become bearable after the visit to Merlin Outfitter, though, when they'd met up with Nott and Zabini and had a good time catching up a bit, where some good natured ribbing and otherwise being teenaged boys occurred, and Severus let them wander by themselves for a little while, and they'd all ended the day with ice-cream, which was always a good thing.

With one week of freedom left, they spent as much time as they could cramming all the information about the Dark Arts that their Aunt Bellatrix had provided them with that summer, trying to make sure to retain everything, and be able to execute every spell perfectly, which naturally meant that they had to kidnap more muggles in order to properly practice.

At the end of the week, both boys were exhausted, and thus were ready for the school year to begin, and, at the platform, they quickly said their goodbyes and boarded the train eagerly, waiting for another year at Hogwarts to begin.

* * *

**Another Pesky A/N: Hey guys, me again. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, be on the look out for the next one! **

_**Reviews Wanted:**_

**_*Flames welcome_**

**_*Constructive criticism welcome_**

**_*Suggestions/Likes/Dislikes_**

**Until next time!**

**-Sam**


	12. Chapter 12

**Important A/N PLEASE READ:**

**First off, two updates in a day, I know, I spoil you lot.**

**Anyways, there was yet another question in the reviews on what the situation with Voldemort was all about, which I already addressed in my A/N a few chapters previous.**

**On Halloween night, Voldemort went to the Potter's home and took Harry, delivered him to the Malfoys, and then returned to the Potter home. This, how, was a mistake, as Dorea Potter - their grandmother - had made her way over to the home in order to babysit, and had already discovered Harry to be missing, so she was on guard. Voldemort killed her, and when he tried to kill Jamie, the curse was actually deflected, hitting Voldemort, making Jamie the prophecy child.**

**This, however, works in Voldemort's favor, as Jamie, the less powerful of the twins, would have zero chance at actually succeeding in defeating him, the Dark Lord, the most powerful wizard of his time. **

**So, no, I did not forget about that, I just thought that it was implied that something went wrong by the fact that Voldemort possessed Quirrell and all that jazz. So, yeah. **

**If you're going to ask questions in a review, please try and make sure that you're logged in or have an account, as I loath to have to write really long A/Ns.**

**I do appreciate the feedback though, just, seriously, get an account so I can PM you instead of having to do all of this *waves hands around wildly*. You get the picture.**

**Anyways, back to the story!**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Another Day Another Destiny**

The train ride on the way to Hogwarts started off with relative ease. They'd magically enlarged their train compartment this year to be bigger on the inside than on the outside, as Daphne Greengrass had joined them in their compartment, as well as Tracey Davis and Celeste Fawley, and Astoria, Anastasia, and Tanner had tagged along as well. Crabbe had left to go to the other compartment, where his girlfriend, Millicent Bulstrode, sat, and Goyle had loyally followed him.

They spent a lot of time goofing off, as Harry and Draco were closer to Nott and Zabini than Crabbe and Goyle, and Tanner Davis seemed in awe of them most of the time, before he finally snapped out of his daze and joined in on the fun, as acting free-spirited was a rare occurrence among purebloods.

Everything had been going fine, and, about halfway to the Hogsmeade Station, the train pulled to a halt, and Harry felt the cold, chilling presence of the guards of Azkaban.

"Dementors," Draco confirmed. "Looking for Peter Pettigrew."

"I don't know how to do a Patronus Charm," said Daphne, frowning. Harry perked up slightly.

"Draco and I were taught a variation of the Patronus Charm, called the Wisp Charm, and it produces a small dementor-like shadowy creature, and, instead of a Patronus, which attacks the dementors, it simply lets the dementors know that the people that it is guarding are its friends, and not to be harmed."

"Have at it, then," said Nott, who was shivering.

"_Simulacrum," _said Harry with a twist of his wand, and the black, shadowy figure of a snake slithered out of his wand, nodded at him, and then went to wait outside of their compartment, along with Draco's chama. And the dementors didn't bother them.

The rest of the ride to Hogwarts went smoothly, and gossip flew through the train like spreading wildfire. It seemed as though Potter had managed to faint during the dementor encounter, and had had to be revived by the new DADA professor, Lupin, the werewolf. Harry and Draco had known that Scarhead was weak-minded, but they hadn't know that he was _that _weak-minded.

Since the compartment that was occupied by the Malfoys and Co. was near the front of the train, they hopped off first, eagerly, and waited for Potter and his babbling gang of Gryffindork misfits, and noted that Potter stepped down from the train rather gingerly, holding his head, as though he'd fallen when he fainted.

They boarded the carriages and were soon near the stone steps leading up to Hogwarts, but Draco felt the need to confront Scarhead.

"You _fainted, _Potter? Is Brown telling the truth? You actually _fainted?" _Draco elbowed past mudblood Granger to block Jamie's way up to the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.

"Shove off, Malfoy," said Weasel-bee, whose Jaw was clenched.

"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" asked Harry loudly, backing his brother up. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"

"If there a problem?" said a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage.

Harry and Draco gave Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in their voice, they responded together, "Oh, no –– er –– _Professor," _then they smirked at Nott and Zabini and led them up the steps into the castle.

Potter and Granger were absent from the Sorting once more, and the thought vaguely crossed Harry's mind if the blood traitor was treating the mudblood like the whorish scum she was, and Draco's voice resounded in his mind.

_Nah, they'd make a lovely traitor couple, but the Mudblood has her eyes on Weasel-bee, and vise versa. Potter hasn't even shown a remote interest in the female species yet…. I wonder if he's queer?_

_ He could be, _pondered Harry. _But I don't think so… he might just be too caught up in fame and arrogance to bother with the lesser girls here at Hogwarts. Give him a veela and he'll be pleased._

_ Give any bloke a veela and he'll be pleased, _scoffed Draco. _Unless they're bent._

Harry didn't pay much attention to the sorting that year, as there really weren't any incoming first years that interested him, though he clapped politely along with everyone else when another student was sorted into Slytherin. Five minutes into the feast, Scarhead and the mudblood returned, much to the general displeasure of the Slytherins.

"I was hoping they'd somehow died on their way to McGonagall's office," grumbled Zabini as he elegantly turned to look at his fellow Slytherins. "Wouldn't _that _have been a nice 'Welcome back to Hogwarts' gift."

"Then you'd only be rid of half of them," said Nott. "Lardbottom and Weasel-bee would still be around."

"Not for long without Granger's brain," said Draco, sniggering slightly. "She does the thinking for everyone in that little group. Honestly, you'd think for purebloods, even if they _are _blood traitors, they'd be a bit more talented." Daphne made a small humming sound from the back of her throat in agreement, and then the Slytherins settled into silence, some of them easing into idle chatter, mainly about subjects of little to no importance. The Headmaster stood up to deliver his speech.

"Welcome!" he said, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it is best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our delicious feast…:

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business." Harry smirked, as Dumbledore didn't look too pleased at that news, but the Minister had pressed the subject, finally growing a spine for once, as he'd said, firmly, that the students needed to be protected from Pettigrew, who was still at large.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," he continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. dementors are not to be fooled by tricks, or disguises –– or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry noticed the Gryffindorks exchange uneasy glances. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors."

The eldest Weasley currently like Hogwarts –– Peter? Parker? Percy? –– Harry could never remember his name, tilted his head upwards and puffed out his chest, looking around and staring impressively –– or so he thought –– looking rather like one of the Malfoy family's preening peacocks.

"On a happier note," Dumbledore continued. "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with the werewolf clapped hard, Scarhead among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

Harry turned his eyes towards his Uncle Severus, who was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against he Dark Arts job, and most people were surprised at the expression twisting his face, though Harry was not. It was beyond anger: it was loathing. Harry knew very well why his godfather had _that _certain emotion displayed openly on his face, as Lupin, along with Pettigrew, Potter Sr., and Sirius no-name, had tormented him when he'd been in his own Hogwarts years. Quite the bitter rivalry.

"And our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

The Gryffindor table quickly erupted into thunderous applause and cheering, as per usual Gryffindor rambunctious standard. The Slytherins held in barely suppressed groans.

"Who else would assign us a biting book?" Harry pointed out bitterly.

"I can't _believe _that _oaf _is being allowed to teach us!" Draco was appalled. "Father _will _be hearing about this, make no doubt about that."

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!" The golden plates and goblets were suddenly overflowing with food and drink, and no one wasted any time filling up their plates and beginning to dig into the wonderfully house-elf prepared meal.

It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. The Slytherins were enjoying a laugh at the expense of other people, which was common among their group, but this particular bashing of character was aimed at one Rubeus Hagrid, the new Care of Magical Creature Professor.

"I don't even know why he's been allowed to teach," Harry said in between bites of fillet mignon and cubed and seasoned potatoes. "He's not even a fully qualified wizard."

"He's not even a full wizard," said Draco darkly, stabbing at his steak with a knife, still quite angered at the fact that Hagrid had acquired a teaching. "His mother was a giantess. How does that even happen anyways? A wizard and a giantess?"

"Beats me," said Nott with a shrug and a shiver. "Quite frankly, I don't _want _to have to think about how such things happen." Zabini shrugged.

"It's not like it matters much, anyways. The Hagrid family was never considered elite, they were always blood traitors, and Hagrid Sr. was just acting as we purebloods always knew that blood-traitors would act. Simple, really." Harry couldn't find flaw with Zabini's logic, so the subject dropped and they continued on with their meal.

"What of Professor Lupin?" asked Daphne after taking a delicate bite out of her pasty, wiping her mouth elegantly on one of the embroidered napkins located around the Slytherin table. "Why on Earth does _he _look so rugged?"

"For a mutt," began Harry, smiling coyly. "He's rather well groomed." The eyes of the Slytherins around him widened, but he motioned for them to be quiet. "I think it'll be a better idea if we make him think we don't know until the end of the year, and then we let _everyone _know, and watch as he flees with his tail between his legs."

"Playing chessmaster again, are you?" asked Daphne with a raised eyebrow, and Harry shot her a smile.

"Well, Draco was a little bit preoccupied stabbing his steak, so someone _had _to step up to the position." Draco scowled at Harry good-naturedly, and pushed him lightly on the shoulder.

"Shove off." The Slytherins laughed, and the meal continued on, nothing else of great importance floating around the table as they chatted idly.

The next morning, the third year Slytherins had gathered at the entrance to the Great Hall, and Harry and Draco were entertaining their fellow classmates with funny stories about some of their misadventures that summer. When Scarhead and his trio of Gryffindorks passed, Draco did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

"Ignore him," Harry could hear the mudblood say. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it…."

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, sneering at him. "Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! _Wooooooo!" _

The Gryffindorks hurried off to the direction of their table and sat down quickly, and Harry cast them one last disdainful look before turning back to his year-mates.

"Did you hear her? '_Oh, Jamie, just ignore them! They aren't worth it!'_," he did the last part in an impression of mudblood Granger, and his eyes darkened. "_Bah! We're _not worth it? More like _they _aren't worth it! Blood-traitors, muggle-lovers, and mudbloods, the lot of them! And to think they've the gall to think that they're better than _us. _The _purebloods._" Angry mutters of agreement escaped the others, but they quickly filed over to their seats at the table so that Snape could hand them the new third year schedules.

"You've got Divination first," Harry commented to Draco. "You'll have to tell me if Trelawney is as batty as all the upper years say she is." Draco nodded.

"And you've got Professor Vector first for Arithmancy," said Draco, thinking back to what the upper years had said about _her_. Veronica Vector was very popular among the upper years as an object of their fantasies. The woman was quite the looker, with her curvacious body and tight-fitting robes.

"I don't need to know," Harry inputted, as though he was reading Draco's mind –– which he _could _do, seeing as they had the blood bond and all –– but he wasn't. He just knew Draco too well for his own good. "I've got the lovely Miss Daphne Greengrass, so I don't need to hear about the wet dreams of hormonal teenaged boys."

Draco smirked.

"Whipped." Harry's magical eyebrow made another appearance as it floated high above his eye, almost to his hairline.

"Is that so?" he asked teasingly. "Well, at least my interests are settled. You've still got a hoard of witches vying for your attention. If you don't help Mother and Father pick soon, you might find yourself in a bit of a tizzy there, Draco." Draco shuddered for a moment, finished up his green apple, having eaten the rest of his breakfast earlier, and swung his satchel over his shoulder, faux saluting to Harry.

"I'll see you later!" Harry, Daphne, Tracey, Nott, and Zabini made their way to Ancient Runes, walking at a leisurely pace. Once situated in the classroom, Professor Vector entered, and Harry noted absentmindedly that the upper years had not been lying about her beauty. However, as Daphne was sitting next to him the entire lesson, he wasn't distracted by it much.

Ancient Runes went smoothly, and Harry rejoined the company of his brother for lunch, where they ate a light meal.

"I wonder what the oaf has prepared for us," Draco wondered aloud as the two brothers strolled outside to the half-giant's hut, hands stuck in the pockets of their robes, hair blowing in the light breeze, and satchels swung neatly across their shoulders.

"Who knows," said Harry wrily. "Regulus commented on more Hippogriffs than usual, so it might be that."

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" called Hagrid as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!" For one nasty moment, Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; which, through Regulus' tales, he knew was a rather unfriendly place. However, the oaf strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he yelled. "That's it –– make sure yeh can see –– now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books ––"

"How?" Draco drawled.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Draco repeated, pulling out his copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters, _which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Scarhead, had belted their book shut, others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

"Hasn' –– hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" asked Hagrid, looking crestfallen. The class all shook their heads.

"Yeh've got to _stroke _'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look ––" He took mudblood Granger's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been," Draco sneered. "We should have _stroked _them! Why didn't we guess?"

"I –– I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Harry. "Really witty, giving up books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Scarhead quietly. Hagrid was looking downcast and it appeared that the Gryffindorks wanted Hagrid's first lesson to be a success.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread. "so –– so yeh've got yer books an' –– an' –– now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hand on…"

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"God, this place has gone to the dogs," said Draco loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him ––"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry repeated.

"Careful, Potter, there's a dementor behind you ––"

"Oooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock. Trotting toward them were a dozen of hippogriffs. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of giant eagles with steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Most drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriff!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren't they." Harry, who rather adored hippogriffs, took a step forward, eagerly taking in the sight of the different colored hippogriffs, some stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer ––" The class blinked in surprise as Harry eagerly hopped forward, his love for the creature in front of him outweighing his hatred for the teacher present, who blinked owlishly a couple of times. The Gryffindorks followed Harry's lead.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing you do."

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

"Right –– who wants ter go first?" It seemed as if Harry was filled with surprises that particular Monday, as he stepped forward boldly.

"I'll do it."

There was an intake of breath from behind him, and he saw Draco rolling his eyes as the Gryffindor girls seemingly obsessed with Divination started fretting over him, even though they hardly knew him. The Gryffindork's eyes were narrowed, and Hagrid seemed to be looking at him in shock, as if this was some sort of joke.

"Right then –– let's see how yes get on with Buckbeak." He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray hippogriff from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Potter's eyes were narrowed maliciously.

"Easy, now, Harry," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink… Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much." Harry basically ignored Hagrid's mutterings, as he was already quite experienced with interacting with Hippogriffs, his father had made sure of that. Buckbeak turned, his piercing yellow eyes looking deep into the silver eyes of the Slytherin.

Harry bowed deeply, lowering his eyes as well. If you kept eye contact while bowing, you issued a challenge, which was never good. He kept his head down low for several long moments, before slowly bringing his head and upper body back to the upright position.

Buckbeak observed him with keen orange eyes for a moment, before he bent his scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right –– yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!" Calmly, Harry stepped forward towards Buckbeak, and reached out toward him. He stroked down the beak several time, and Buckbeak's eyes closed halfway, making a keening noise in the back of his throat, clearly enjoying it.

"May I ride him?" asked Harry, turning around to see Hagrid standing there, gaping at him. "I've had lessons. We've a heard back at the Manor." That seemed to snap Hagrid out of his daze, and he nodded.

"Sure! Jus' climb up on him –– well, yeh no what ter do." Harry carefully put his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wings, and swung himself with a practiced ease onto his back, and attached his hands to the scruff of Buckbeak's neck, as he knew that that was the area of skin where the hippogriffs least minded being grabbed by.

With a soft nudge to Buckbeak's hindquarters, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry, who was grinning from ear to ear as they soared upward. The feeling of flying on a hippogriff was nothing like a broomstick, but Harry had long ago decided that he enjoyed both equally. It you didn't know the right position to place your legs, the wings flapping would be uncomfortable, but Harry was right at home on Buckbeak's back, gliding through the sky smoothly. Buckbeak flew with him twice around the paddock and then headed back to the ground, the two of them performing a smooth landing.

"Good work, Harry!" called Hagrid, and all of the Slytherins, and some of the Gryffindors, cheered loudly. Harry dismounted just as smoothly as he'd mounted, and patted Buckbeak on the beak a couple of more times. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

"What a brilliant, handsome beast you are," Harry whispered into Buckbeak's ear, and Buckbeak made another keening noise, nuzzling Harry softly on the head and nipping his ear affectionately, like an owl.

"May I stay with Buckbeak?" asked Harry, and Hagrid nodded. Harry summoned over Draco, Daphne, and Tracey, while Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle traveled to the pinkish roan colored hippogriff named Nike.

"He's wonderful," said Daphne, after having Buckbeak bow to the rest of the members of the group as she patted his head fondly. Buckbeak seemed to puff up with pride, tossing his head back rather arrogantly.

"He reminds me of you, Draco," Harry teased, and Draco scowled at him as he patted the stormy grey feathers of the hippogriff.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." A commotion was heard to their right, and they all turned –– even Buckbeak –– to pay attention.

Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, and Granger were stationed with a phoenix colored female hippogriff named Sunspot, who had just bowed to Potter, who was now patting her beak, looking disdainful.

"This is very easy," said Potter arrogantly. "I knew it must have been, if Malfoy could do it… I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

In a flash of steely talons, Sunspot was upon Scarhead, and Buckbeak –– who seemed to be playing the role of overprotective mate –– soon followed, and Hagrid had to wrestle the two off of the blundering Gryffindor fool. Hagrid scooped Potter up, whose arms were both bleeding, and ran him back up to the castle.

Brown and Patil were blubbering on about bad omens, and the Gryffindors were in panic, while the Slytherins sat back and enjoyed the show.

Knews of the attack on Potter spread soon, and people started to complain to their parents. Harry, however, wrote a note to his father, saying that, instead of having the two hippogriffs executed, they could bring them to the herd at the Manor, away from the inexperienced children. Two days later, and they were shipped off, and Hagrid was just thankful that they weren't killed.

The other anticipated class was soon upon them, Defense Against the Dark Arts. When the Slytherins arrived in the classroom, Professor Lupin wasn't there. They all say down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the day of the Opening Feast, as though he had had a few square meals.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts before, unless you counted the duels against Lockhart last year.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me." Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feets away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang. "Loony loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin ––" Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect towards the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin as if to gauge his reaction. Harry was unsurprised to see that Lupin was smiling, as he _had _been a prankster during his Hogwarts years.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms." Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry. Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand.

"This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely." He pointed the wand to shoulder height, said: "_Waddiwasi!" _and pointed it at Peeves. With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum show out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves' left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.

As it turned out, the long anticipated first lesson of Defense Against the Dark Arts pertained to Boggarts, and, more specifically, how to overcome one. They'd traveled all the way to the staffroom, and Lupin –– after teaching them the incantation –– opened up the wardrobe to Neville Longbottom, and the class was soon in stitches at the sight of Professor Snape wearing the clothes of Augusta Longbottom.

And so, the class formed a line, and each person took turns facing the boggart, and turning their worst fears into something comical. The Gryffindors had ridiculous fears, especially with a war brewing on the Horizon, and the fears of the Slytherins –– especially those that were well informed –– their fears were darker, more serious, harder to make comical.

Most common were flashed of crimson red and shocking green light, or a cold, cruel voice laughing at them. Family members lying on the floor, dying, writhing in pain. Their own dead bodies. Lupin soon picked up on this and excused the Slytherins from the exercise, while the Gryffindors continued on, howling like monkeys. Little did they know…

Little did they know….

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**Alright, that's it for this week, I think, unless you guys get really lucky. Please take the time to favorite/follow/review, if you like this story. I live off of reviews. Flames welcome! I need something to laugh at while I roast my marshmallows.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Here's another chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

**Guest101: Thanks for the review, it always means a lot to me. And, as to your concerns, no I was not planning on there being a big reveal ever. Voldemort certainly wouldn't want him finding out about him, and Lucius and Narcissa have taken him in as their own, and love him just as much as they love Draco. I agree that it would basically negate everything that I've been slaving over, which is why I won't be writing such a scene. Perhaps I will in a one-shot spinoff series about the "what-ifs", sort of like Kurinoone (is that how you spell it?) did with the Darkness Within Trilogy.**

**And, once again, I apologize for the Harry/Jamie mix up. I do my best to catch all of the little things, but after staring at a screen for several hours, my eyes tend to miss things. I will continue to try and do better, which is as much as I can say right now. As long as everyone understands that they're little mistakes that I missed, then we're all good.**

**On a completely different note, if you like YouTube, go check out Sir Yizzle (my YouTube). Oh, and PewDiePie, the most awesome YouTuber ever who just reached 30 million subs. Go check it out, and join the Bro Army today!**

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**Chapter Thirteen: Hogsmeade, Break-ins, and Quidditch Oh My!**

Though the Slytherins loathed to admit it, Lupin was the best Defense Professor they'd had so far, but, in usual Slytherin style, they made sure to degrade and mock him at every chance they got, as, he _was_ a werewolf, a half-blood, and a blood-traitor. Not a very good combination if one wanted to befriend the Slytherins. However, no one else seemed to share their view on why Lupin shouldn't be allowed to teach, so, not for the first time in Hogwarts history, the Slytherins were ignored.

"And people wonder why we've got it out for them," Nott had muttered darkly during the evening feast one night, and Harry found himself agreeing rather easily.

However, the mood was brightened considerably when the first Hogsmeade weekend rolled around. Everyone was gathered cheerfully in the courtyard, each babbling happily to another about the excitement of Hogsmeade. Though Harry and Draco, as well as the majority of the other Slytherins, had already seen Hogsmeade, the experience was still as magical as it would have been had they not seen it previously.

"Where to first, m'lady?" asked Harry cheerfully as he escorted Daphne around, her arm linked around his in old-fashioned pureblood style. Draco rolled his eyes at his brothers antics, and Daphne kicked his shin for ruining the moment, to which he protested greatly.

"I was thinking Honeydukes," said Daphne thoughtfully. "I've got a bit of a sweet tooth."

"And I think I know why," muttered Draco under his breath, and Daphne responded with a sweet smile and another sharp blow to the knee, to which Draco muttered obscenities under his breath about 'bloody women' and 'hormonal banshees', to which Harry laughed. Daphne raised an eyebrow and Harry quickly sobered.

"I was laughing at my brother's misfortune, not your current predicament," said Harry.

"Oh?" asked Daphne. "What predicament?" And Harry, in smooth pureblood style, responded.

"It's a shame to be cursed with such incredible beauty," he replied in earnest. "Don't worry about Draco, he's just jealous."

"Oh, smooth, Malfoy," giggled Daphne, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

"I try," Harry shot back easily, and Draco, just now recovering, shot him a scathing look.

"Never again," he swore, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"You'll be doing this with Anastasia next year, you can have your revenge then." Draco's grey eyes glinted happily at that prospect, and he made idle conversation with Zabini and Nott as the five made their way to Honeydukes.

Honeydukes in of itself was a rather magical, childish place filled with confections of all sorts. The bright assortments littered the walls, and candies that crawled, flew, scampered, and croaked were on display brightly by students already occupying the building, trying to purchase as many sweets as they could afford, which, in Harry and Draco's case, as well as most Slytherins, was quite a lot.

The first area of the shop they went to was the chocolates, in which there were over fifty flavours of fudge, including the line of Honeyduke's Best Fudge, which was the expensive selection that the Slytherins favored, if only to show off their considerate wealth. Each had procured a basket from the front in which they would gather their sweets with, and they eagerly began sifting through the candies to choose their favorites.

Harry selected a wide variety of different kinds of fudge, including original milk chocolate, chocolate mint, caramel, salted fudge, and several others. Draco, however, favored fudge that had nuts of different sorts mixed in them in one way or another, and Daphne just grabbed all of the chocolate she could reach, which was most likely as a result of the hormonal cycle that all females eventually had to suffer through.

They then moved on to the funnier, most alive confections. Harry scooped handfuls of peppermint toads and ice mice into his basket, as well as chocolate frogs, pepper imps, glacial snowflakes, jelly slugs, exploding bonbons, chocolate cauldrons, sugared skeletons, sugared butterfly wings, and other sweets that moved. Acid pops and blood pops were bought for a laugh to place among the other wide variety of flavoured lollies, as well as boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and Bott's Noise-Making Beans.

The Slytherins then made their way to the front, where the owner and cashier, Mr. Dukes, welcomed them warmly, as they'd been regulars over the years. The elderly pureblood had been a Slytherin, and had been crippled in the last war, fighting on the front lines for Grindelwald. He had earned their respect as a veteran and as a person, and they knew that Honeydukes would be safe when Voldemort returned, if only out of respect for one of the few remaining purebloods who had fought to purge the world of muggles so many years ago.

"Stocking up for a while, eh?" Mr. Dukes asked kindly, his eyes alight with unseen laughter, the bright blue irises looking upon each Slytherin fondly. "Ah, and Mr. Malfoy, Miss Greengrass, I must congratulate you on your marriage contract. You're a lucky one, Mr. Malfoy."

"I know," Harry replied earnestly, earning him another fond gaze from Daphne.

"Well, then, since I like you lot so much, I think that this one'll be on the house, but don't go around telling all the other lads that I can afford such favors." He winked at them conspiratorially. "Now, off you trot. Have a wonderful rest of your day."

"You as well, Mr. Dukes," said Draco happily. "Tell Honey we said 'hello'!" Honey was Mr. Dukes' old crup, who had a flair for sweets and was always able to sniff out the good quality produce from the cheaply made confections.

"I will, Mr. Malfoy, I will."

With freshly wrapped packages of sweets, the Slytherins happily made their way over to the Three Broomsticks where they would have lunch. Draco, Nott, and Zabini all got a little starry-eyed when Madame Rosmerta came to bring them their meal, and Daphne looked rather pleased with herself when Harry didn't bat an eye at the rather curvaceous woman's appearance.

"Honestly, you lot looked like a gaggle of bumbling baboons," scoffed Harry rolling his eyes in a rather over dramatized, but very endearing, manner. It was, of course, natural for three teenaged boys to stumble over themselves when in the company of any female with developed assets, as they were just discovering the wonders of the female 'species', and many things –– such as breasts, to name one of many –– were becoming the centre of their universe. Not that Harry didn't appreciate such things, he just didn't bother with drooling, as he already had a beautiful young lady of his own to dote over.

Warm glasses of butterbeer were served, golden brown and bubbling, foaming and frothing at the top in a rather luxurious velvety blanket, creating a rather pleasing experience for whoever was drinking at the time. Harry expected no less from a finely brewed wizarding drink.

The meal at the Three Broomsticks was a more intimate experience than the meals at Hogwarts, which were loud, rowdy, and utterly chaotic 90% of the time. Not to say that it wasn't loud at the Three Broomsticks, but it was more of a pleasant, tavern-y sort of loud, as opposed to the sheer volume of hungry Gryffindors, and the other students had to speak at the top of their voices to even be heard over the noise coming from the table filled with obnoxious shades of in-your-face red and gold.

Harry had ordered a Cornish Pastie, filled with different types of slow-roasted meats, sauteed vegetables, mashed potatoes, and a smooth, succulent gravy blanketing the flaky pie crust. It was delicious, and one of the classics on the menu. Daphne ordered a Cottage Pie, Draco Bubble and Squeak, and Nott and Zabini shared a Cumberland Sausage.

"It's not our fault," Draco protested weakly in-between bites of his Bubble and Squeak. "Unlike yourself, the three of us aren't betrothed, officially, so, therefore, we don't only have to focus on one person."

"I don't _have_ to," said Harry exasperatedly. "I _want _to. There's a difference, Draco." The older of the two blonds pouted slightly, which was a rather comical sight, and the rest of the occupants at the table quickly dissolved into fits of barely contained laughter, their shoulders heaving and arms doubled over at their sides, trying their hardest to remain composed, as they'd been taught. It was hard, though, to look composed when you were in a sitting fetal position, fist shoved up your mouth, trying not to laugh.

"Never," wheezed Harry. "Do…..that…._again."_

"...you were so….funny," giggled Daphne, swallowing the piece of meat that she'd almost choked on when Draco pouted.

"Oh _come on_," whined Draco. "You lot are having me on. It's not like it was _that _funny. Round the bend, all of you." Instead of pouting, Draco settled for glaring at them rather scathingly, though they all knew that it was in good fun. As they'd put several privacy charms around their booth, the strongest reactions they got were a few odd glances from some of the customers sitting in the booths next to them, but, other than that, no one really noticed the entire ordeal, for which Draco was grateful.

After a few moments of more insane cackling, the others calmed down, breathing deeply to regain composure, and to not suffocate from lack of air, which was a possibility considering just how much they'd been laughing. Draco, Nott, and Zabini took a long time to eat, so while Harry and Daphne waited, Harry scooted until he was sitting against the wall, and Daphne leaned back luxuriously and rested her head on his chest, causing Harry to smile and Draco to mime gagging, and then he yelped as, somehow, Daphne's foot rammed into his knee.

"Toes of steel," he muttered, and the others present laughed at his misfortune. Draco, being a pureblood heir, usually wouldn't accept that, but he was among friends and family, so it was alright.

"Oh look," sneered Harry, peering over Daphne's head. "The Gryffindork wanna-be crew has arrived." And in true Gryffindork fashion as well. Jamie Potter, as usual, was leading the bunch, and had a rather flustered looking Lavender Brown hanging off of his arm as he dazzled her charmingly and she swooned. The apple didn't seem to fall far from the tree, or so it seemed.

Trailing closely behind him were Lardbottom and Weasel-bee, whose heads were stuck together in conversation, most likely about the upcoming Quidditch match, chess –– which was the only thing Weasel-bee was actually _good _at ––, or Herbology –– Lardbottom's strong suit. And trailing behind them was the mudblood Granger, her nose buried in a book as she walked, and Harry wondered how she hadn't yet fallen among the chaos of the pub and Hogsmeade in general.

"Let's go to Tomes and Scrolls," Daphne suggested. "My little cousin Davie has been _dying _to get his hands on the new series of '_Westley the Nobel Warlock'_, so I figured I could purchase it now to send to him for Christmas." _Westley the Nobel Warlock _was a wizarding comic series, with interactive drawings that actually flew, cast spells, and spoke through the pages of smooth parchment.

"Could we go to Zonko's afterwards?" asked Nott as they exited the building, trying to fix his hair as they walked, as the wind kept messing it up. Zabini, who kept his head clean-shaven, was rolling his obsidian eyes at his friend, and looked at his dark skinned hand boredly.

"I don't see why not," Daphne offered, shrugging, as they entered the colorful bookshop, and Daphne made her way through the gaggle of excited children who lived in Hogsmeade gathered around the shelves filled with the new set of comics, eager to coerce their parents into purchasing a set.

Daphne plucked a box filled with comics off of the shelves, placed it on the counter, and bought the entire thing, much to the awe of the small children gathered, who then seemed even _more _excited about the comics, and Harry had to stifle laughter as some parents shot Daphne rather annoyed looks, as if blaming _her _for the predicament they'd been caught in.

"Will there be another Hogsmeade weekend before the hols?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," said Zabini, nodding. "Two weeks before break. That way we'll actually have time to purchase our gifts before hand instead of having to owl-order them, which is always inconvenient."

"It's _great _to be third years," Nott agreed, biting the head off of a chocolate frog that he'd pulled out of his package full of sweets, tucked neatly into his satchel, which was bigger on the inside than it was the outside, and also had a feather-light charm on it, as had been Harry's idea before the Slytherins had left for the day.

"I think that we should work on a project together," said Harry, out of the blue, and the others turned to look at him warily as they strolled through Hogsmeade, as Harry had had some pretty diabolical ideas in the past.

"Don't give me those looks," Harry chided. "This is actually a good idea. I propose that we make a map of Hogwarts. All of its secret entrances and exits, and spell it so that we can tell where everyone is at any given time."

"The ultimate snooping device," said Draco with a grin. "I like it."

"But how would we get it to work?" asked Zabini, brows furrowed.

"There's a spell that Auntie Bella taught us over the summer, for map creation," Harry explained. "_Cohaerent_. You cast it on the piece of parchment and the areas you want mapped, and they show up, connected."

"We'd need to password protect the parchment, though," Daphne added. "And make it indestructible."

"And undetectable," offered Zabini.

"With multiple copies, too, one for each of us, so that we don't have to keep passing it around," said Draco.

"It'd need a name, though," asked Nott as they trudged back up to Hogwarts.

"The Pureblood's Guide to Hogwarts," exclaimed Harry, and four pairs of incredulous eyes looked at him quizzically.

"What?" he asked, rather defensively. "It's a good idea. And besides, I was the one who came up with the idea. I should get to name it."

"Alright," Daphne conceded. "Now, how would we start about the creation of this map."

"A very large piece of parchment," offered Harry, procuring one from his bag with a smile. "And a whole lot of exploring…"

(linebreak)

The Slytherins were in the middle of working on their masterpiece when they heard the news.

"So far, we know of seven secret passageways altogether," said Harry, as they'd gone and spelled the secret passageways first. "Behind the statue of the one-eyed witch, behind the mirror on the fourth floor, beneath the Whomping Willow, behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, through the passageway behind the lopsided barrel by the Hufflepuff entrance, Myrtle's sink, and the portrait of Barnabas the Barney. But what's to say there aren't more?"

"We'll have to do a more thorough search of the castle," said Draco. "Leave no stone unturned...theoretically, of course. I don't think Dumbles would appreciate if we broke his castle."

"It isn't even his," said Daphne sourly. "The Dumbledores are a half-blood family. Only the purebloods can trace their bloodlines back to the Founders. So, technically, we should be running this place."

"We _do _run this place," Harry deadpanned drily. "The others just haven't got their heads out of their arses to see that."

They were walking through the halls back to the Slytherin Common Room when they heard the commotion, a loud clammering of students rushing down the stairs back to the Great Hall, where sleeping bags were being relocated to.

"Oh great," groaned Draco. "What've the Gryffindorks done _this _time?"

"Peter Pettigrew," said Terry Boot breathlessly, as he'd almost gotten trampled on his way down from the Ravenclaw Tower. He was one of the few reasonable, pureblood elitists in Ravenclaw, and a close acquaintance of the Slytherins. "He tried to break into the Gryffindor Common Room. We've all been ordered by the Headmaster to remain in the Great Hall until the castle's been thoroughly searched." Draco rolled his eyes slightly at the irony, but otherwise didn't comment.

"I'll be putting cushioning charms everywhere," Harry muttered, rubbing his back absentmindedly. "It won't be comfortable to sleep on stone floors, so I might as well try my best to have _some _semblance of comfort."

"_Spongify, _right?" asked Daphne, refreshing her memory.

"Yeah," Harry replied absentmindedly. "First year spell, really simple. Most people probably won't think of it, though. Boot, tell all of our..._friends_… in Ravenclaw. We wouldn't want them to suffer, now, would we?"

Terry grinned a rather devious grin and nodded.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy." And then he was off, and Harry looked rather pleased with himself.

"I _do _love having influence over people, I wonder how the Gryffindorks live with themselves, not having such skills in manipulation."

"What are you going on about?" laughed Draco, and Harry shoved him lightly in the shoulder.

"You tend to favor in-your-face intimidation, as does Father. I, on the other hand, rather like the idea of subtle intimidation and manipulation, in true sly Slytherin style. Makes sense, don't you think?" Draco nodded, as he understood Harry more than the others, but even they agreed with his reasoning.

"Doesn't mean I'll change my approach," said Draco light-heartedly, elbowing Harry in the stomach. "Now, come on, let's find a less crowded area to settle ourselves into, and get away from the insane chitter of the blood-traitors and mudbloods."

(linebreak)

For days after the breakin, people could speak of little more than Peter Pettigrew, and the non-Slytherins were always looking over their shoulders in the corridors fearfully, walking in large groups, similar to the tactics they'd used during the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco. Not like that would actually help, as, though Pettigrew still had little more power than a squib, he _was _a fully trained wizard, and could easily take down a group of scared, undertrained students.

But, the rat was much too cowardly to make an outward appearance, and Harry and Draco wondered why he was causing such a ruckus in the first place.

"Maybe he's a distraction," Boot had said over a hushed conversation in the library during their study group. "Think about it. Usually, when a power-play of sorts is about to take place, there's a distraction. In Quidditch, its the bludgers. Maybe the Dark Lord is planning something…maybe Pettigrew is his bludger." It was useful to have a Ravenclaw within their little circle of friends, very useful. Not that Harry and the others weren't smart, it was just that they tended to think in different ways than the Ravenclaws.

Tensions between Gryffindor and Slytherin once more began to increase as the upcoming match between the two approached. Potter had tried to weasel his way out of having to participate in the match, apparently, though, as he'd gone to McGonagall pleading the fact that his arm still wasn't fully healed. Madame Pomfrey had quickly put a stop to that, though, and had said in a rather no-nonsense tone that his arm was fine, and that he was clear to participate in the match. Needless to say, Potter had been furious.

For good reason, too, as the weather seemed to be taking a turn for the worst. The winds raged constantly, and the rain downpoured on and off, and the ceiling in the Great Hall almost always portrayed a dark grey storm with wars brewing overhead, a clash of brilliant streaks of lightning and loud booms of thunder, a rather ominous way to set the mood.

On Wednesday, Harry and the rest of his Slytherin comrades made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and were delighted to see that, instead of the mangy mutt, Professor Snape was at the front desk, already looking threatening and annoyed, bust his obsidian gaze softened from steel to stormy when he saw his beloved godsons.

"You'll be teaching our Defense lesson today?" asked Draco excitedly, and Severus pursed his lips slightly, hidden laughter deep in his obsidian eyes, and, in usual sarcastic style, he replied:

"Obviously, Draco, don't waste your words on pointing out the painfully obvious." Smiling, the Slytherins situated themselves at the front of the classroom, and Daphne saved a seat next to her for her best female friend, Tracey Davis.

Students soon began to file into the class, and Potter was noticably absent, and Harry could see his godfather's eyes begin to narrow ever so slightly, his posture becoming stiffer, and then a cruel look passed through his obsidian eyes, and Harry knew that he was thinking of cursing Scarhead into the next century. The time for the lesson to begin quickly was upon them, and Potter was still not present. Severus began the class without him, quickly saying that he would be teaching the lesson, not to ask stupid questions, and that the rules now were just like the rules in the Potions classroom.

Ten minutes into the lesson, Scarhead strutted into the room confidently.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lup––" he began, but trailed off as he saw that it was not his werewolf honorary uncle that was seated at the head of the class, but his least favorite teacher, Professor Snape.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think it'll better be ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down." But Scarhead didn't move.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" he said.

"He says that he is feeling too ill to teach today," said Snape with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down." But Scarhead stayed stubbornly where he was, and the Slytherins began to snigger softly, wondering if Potter had a death wish or something.

"Nothing life-threatening," he said, black eyes glittering, looking as though he wished it were. "Twenty more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty." Jamie walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around at the class.

"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far––"

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," said mudblood Granger quickly, "and we're just about to start––"

"Be quiet," said Snape coldly. "I did not ask for information, I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said mudblood Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the Gryffindors. Snape looked more menacing than ever.

"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing –– I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss––" he filled to the back of the textbook, at the very last chapter, where he must've known they hadn't covered.

"––werewolves," said Snape.

"But sir," said mudblood Granger, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks––"

"Miss Granger," said Snape in a voice of deadly calm. "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. "_All _of you! _Now!"_

Harry happily opened his textbook to page three-hundred and ninety-four, smirking into the pages of the textbook as he heard the grumbles of the Gryffindors, and a small sniffle from mudblood Granger, who seemed to have taken offense to what Snape had said to her, even though it was justly deserved.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" asked Snape. The Slytherins wisely kept silent, as they knew that this was a test for the Gryffindors, and Snape had warned them beforehand, of course. Mudblood Granger's hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air.

"anyone?" Snape said, ignoring the mudblood. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between––"

"We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on––"

"_Silence!" _snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…"

"Please, sir," said mudblood Granger, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf––"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape cooly. "Fifteen more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all." Mudblood Granger finally put her hand down, and stared at the floor, her eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over at any given moment.

"You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?" the angry words left Weasel-bee's mouth before he even had the chance to consider the repercussions, and the Slytherins smiled darkly, instantly knowing that he'd gone too far.

"Detention, Weasley," said snape silkily, his face very close to Weasel-bee's. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach this class again, you will be very sorry indeed." He turned to the class and smiled darkly. "Now, Harry, would you mind telling me all of the differences between a werewolf and a true-wolf?"

Harry happily listed off facts, revelling in the loathing looks shot his way by the Gryffindors, especially the Gryffindorks. The favoritism was so blatant, so unfair… it was wonderful. However, they dutifully took notes from both what Harry was saying, and from the pages from the textbook. Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks after awarding Harry thirty points, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.

"Very poorly explained… That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia… Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it a three…"

When the bell finally rang, Snape held them back.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. Except for all the Slytherins who added to Mr. Malfoy's stunning explanation, of course ––" that was all the Slytherins in the class, "I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."

The Slytherins left the Defense classroom thoroughly pleased, and chatted amiably all the way to their next class, Herbology. The week passed quickly, and the much anticipated Quidditch match was soon upon them. The weather was horrible, raining, cloudy and gloomy. The Slytherins had to charm their goggles to repel water so that they could see.

Higgs kept a firm eye on Potter, trailing behind him, ready at a moments notice to peel after him with his much faster broomstick. Harry and Draco, as always, found much amusement in pelting bludgers at the unsuspecting Gryffindors, who could barely see in all of the heavy rainfall. As Harry and Draco were busy trying to knock the Gryffindors off of their brooms, Higgs and Potter finally shot up, high into the sky, in furious pursuit of the snitch, climbing up and up until they were out of sight.

Moments later, a figure came falling out of the sky. It was Potter. Apparently, the dementors had travelled too close to the school, and he'd fainted on his broom. It was a shame he didn't fall to his death, but the blasted old coot _had _to save him. The Slytherins cheered loudly when Higgs touched down, snitch firmly clasped in his hands. They'd won the match, 150 - 0, as both Wood and Bletchley had been on the top of their game that day.

When the team, freshly showered and cleaned, entered the Common Room, there was a loud uproar, and they were immediately swept up into the celebration, one of the largest they'd had in a long, long time, all joyous in _crushing _the Gryffindors. Harry and Draco, in particular, were being cheered on, as they'd managed to knock all three Gryffindors off of their brooms on several different occasions, and none of the bludgers shot by the twin terrors had even _grazed _the Slytherins. Everyone agreed that it had been an amazing match.

Daphne accosted Harry as soon as he entered, latching onto him in a tight embrace and kissing him briefly on the lips, arousing hoots and hollers from their friends, to which both flushed slightly.

"Hey, you," he said, smiling down at her, for she was a good five inches shorter than him. Daphne's pale cheeks were still flushed slightly, and her emerald green eyes were peering up at Harry. Harry chuckled, and wrapped his arms around Daphne's middle, pulling her closer to him as they swayed in their position, lost in the moment. "How'd I get so lucky?"

"Sometimes I think I'm the lucky one," murmured Daphne, and Harry smiled and kissed her forehead.

"I think the others are getting impatient," chuckled Harry, and he and Daphne reluctantly parted and rejoined the celebration. The upper years had taken the liberty of obtaining butterbeers and other snacks and beverages from the house elves, and the seventh years were enjoying a couple of glasses of firewhiskey.

The party continued on late into the night, and there was plenty of dancing and merriment in general. It was a chance for all of the purebloods to just let loose for a little while, as they were used to social gatherings and parties in which it seemed like they were stuck in the Victorian era, with ball gowns and dress robes, elegant hairstyles and posh aristocratic company, in which everyone was trying to impress the others with their wealth. This, of course, was the polar opposite. And Harry found that, while such an event _was _fun, he didn't think he could enjoy them every other week, like Gryffindors did. He preferred to live luxuriously, and parties such as Quidditch celebrations were a bit… _much._

Although, it was alright to relax, just for now.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for my overdue update. Summer got a little crazy, what with myself doing additional advanced coursework to prepare myself for... *drumroll*...**

**My first year at High School!**

**Anyways, hopefully none of you think less of me for not updating, or due to the fact that I'm younger (though I've tested to be further progressed intellectually then some of my peers, not that there's anything wrong with that of course - which is why I'm in the IB Program) and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'm working on a few more as I type...**

**Anyways, as always, feel free to slap that like button and leave a comment! And, if you want to see me, check out my YouTube, Sir Yizzle (or SirYizzle, I can't remember if there was a space between the two words).**

**Thanks for stopping by!**


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